


The Magic of Two Minds

by emjwriter (EmSpeaks)



Category: Frozen (2013), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Crossover, Crossover Pairings, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-28
Updated: 2014-05-04
Packaged: 2018-01-21 03:53:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 43,322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1536548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmSpeaks/pseuds/emjwriter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Princess Elsa, heir to the throne of Arendelle, finds much more than fresh air when she rebels against her confinement. Prince Loki of Asgard, traveling to Midgard on a whim, is surprised to discover a mortal with magic powers. One chance meeting and then another crosses two lives across disparate worlds, for good or for ill.</p><p>This Frozen/Thor crossover does its best to stick to the canon of both films/film universes. Any and all "BBC Sherlock" references are completely intentional.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. One Night in Arendelle

Elsa looked behind her for what must have been the twentieth time. She guided her horse through back passageways, from the palace stables to the city walls. Outside, after one more look back, the princess finally breathed easily. She nudged her horse into a trot, and allowed herself a smile.  
  
She hated to disobey and knew she was taking a great risk, but Elsa could not let pass a chance for her first breath of fresh air since before the winter snows. She agreed to confine herself to her room, to protect the kingdom from her magic. But no sixteen-year-old girl, even one as naturally solitary and cautious as Elsa, could be cooped up for very long.   
  
She had taken every precaution, covering all but her face, which was less than comfortable on a midsummer night. Out of the town and in the countryside she could relax. Even at the midnight hour, she was unlikely to meet anything that would startle her into revealing her true nature.  
  
Just inside a grove of trees, she dismounted and loosely tethered the horse. Elsa listened, but heard only crickets and the occasional owl. Leaving the horse to nibble at grasses and brush, Elsa strolled around, hungrily inhaling the crisp night air. She stretched her limbs and came out of the trees at the top of a slope overlooking Arendelle.  
  
The palace loomed large and dark, with hardly any light at all in the windows. Elsa hoped that Anna was sleeping peacefully tonight.  
  
“I wish you could be here, though,” she whispered.  
  
Her throat closed with unshed tears as she thought of her little sister, her pleas for attention, and her mistaken belief that Elsa _wanted_  to keep her out of her life. Elsa could not count how many times she came close to revealing the truth, to telling Anna about the magic and the accident that prompted Elsa's seclusion. She couldn't; it would undo everything.  
  
Elsa turned away from the view, her fingers itching in their gloves. Although she resented her powers, she was fiercely tempted now to remove one of those gloves—just one—and practice controlling them. But her bedroom in the palace was a cave of ice and snow already, after years of trying to suppress it all. There was no telling what might happen here if she uncovered so much as a finger.  
  
The horse whinnied in alarm. Elsa hurried toward it, afraid of finding a pack of wolves. The horse was rearing up, eyes wild, pawing at the air with its front hooves. Elsa rushed forward to calm the animal down. She grabbed at the reins, one of her gloves slipping off in the process.  
  
“Easy, boy!” she said, finally grasping the bridle with her covered hand. “Come now…there's nothing there.” The horse snorted and danced, still agitated. “…Is there?”  
  
Elsa looked in the direction of the steed's frantic gaze and gasped. A young man, dark-haired and darkly dressed, was standing half-concealed among the foliage. He looked amused.  
  
“I seem to have startled your horse,” he said, stepping out of the shadows.  
  
At a better sight of him, however, the horse neighed loudly and reared up again, almost dislocating Elsa's arm.  
  
“Don't you  _dare_  come closer!” Elsa shouted.   
  
A sweeping motion with her uncovered hand sent a jet of bright blue ice shooting toward the stranger. Almost quicker than she could see, he deflected the attack, and the ice struck a tree instead. The tree instantly froze from its roots to its topmost branches.  
  
Elsa's blue eyes widened in shock. She had never seen anyone—or anything—resist her magic. The very idea was terrifying. She grabbed the saddle to mount the horse and flee, but the animal bucked her off, sending her sprawling into a bush. With one last whinny of terror, the horse turned and galloped out of the trees, back toward the palace.  
  
The man was coming toward her. Elsa scrambled to her feet, but she was not fast enough. She shot out several more blasts of ice, even forming a small wall, but he deflected or dissolved them almost instantly. Afraid of using her powers any more, Elsa turned to run after the horse, but the stranger caught her by the wrist of her uncovered hand.  
  
“Calm down, girl! I'm not going to hurt you!”  
  
His grip was strong—and cold. Gasping for breath, Elsa twisted around to face him. As frightened as she was, she felt her magical energy subsiding, as though this man's touch neutralized it somehow. Clearly his magic—for what else could it be?—was stronger than hers.  
  
“Let me  _go,_ ” she said, her voice trembling.  
  
“Tell me who you are,” the stranger said.  
  
“You dare ask who  _I_  am? After you try to steal my horse and then capture  _me?_ ”  
  
He chuckled. “Perhaps you have a point there. I had no intention of taking that fine steed of yours. Even if I had, I expected to see arrows and swords before…” He looked down at her hand, turning it over to see the palm. Elsa responded by clenching her fist, and he chuckled again.  
  
“Release me,” Elsa said.  
  
“You might try to escape again. And you have not yet told me who you are.”  
  
“Why  _shouldn't_  I try to escape?” Elsa asked. "Who knows what you'll do!"  
  
“If I wished harm upon you, don't you think I'd have done it by now?”  
  
It made sense, but it did not make Elsa feel any better. “I didn't hurt  _you,_ ” she said. “You blocked me every time.”  
  
“It takes much more than cold water to harm me,” he said. “I have a little experience with magic myself, though I had not expected to find it in Midgard.”  
  
“Midgard?” Elsa asked. “Where's that? This is Arendelle.”  
  
“Which is in the realm of Midgard,” he said. “Excellent. I was not steered wrong after all. And now, lady of Midgard, I must once again ask for your name.”  
  
She sighed, seeing no other option. “Elsa,” she answered, thinking it safer to conceal her title.  
  
To her complete surprise, the man smiled. Elsa could not help but think it a rather  _attractive_  smile—one that lit up a face that was otherwise pale and daunting, with a thin mouth, sharp cheekbones, and a cunning pair of eyes.  
  
To her further surprise, he let go of her hand, took a step back, and made a courtly bow.  
  
“I am Loki, of Asgard—the realm of the gods—and I am pleased to make your acquaintance.”  
  
“The gods?” Elsa repeated. “You can't be serious. There's no such place."  
  
He did not answer her in words. Instead, he stood up straight and pressed his hands together—one palm facing up, the other facing the ground. He drew them apart, slowly, and a kind of mist appeared between his hands. It shifted and formed a bubble that grew as he brought his hands further apart, until it was as big around as a serving platter. Elsa held her breath as she watched. This was magic, certainly, and a kind she had never seen.  
  
Then she realized that it was not just a hollow bubble, but like an enormous crystal ball. Inside it, she saw images of mountains, rivers, buildings, and a golden palace of many towers.  
  
“ _That_  is Asgard,” Loki said, “where my father Odin reigns as king.”  
  
“You're a prince?” Elsa asked. “Do they know you have magic?”  
  
“I am, and they do. Magic is a way of life in Asgard.” Elsa frowned and looked down at the ground thoughtfully. He cocked his head slightly and waved his hands, making the bubble disappear. “But here, I imagine, it is not so widely known.”  
  
Elsa grimaced slightly as she looked back up at him. “My father is the king of Arendelle,” she confessed. Loki raised his eyebrows, but considering the quality of Elsa's clothing and her horse, her heritage was hardly surprising. “I have to hide my powers from the kingdom,” she went on. “I'm not even supposed to be out here—I should be in my room at the palace.”  
  
Now it was Loki who frowned. “Why should a member of the royal family be compelled to hide her power?” He seemed personally affronted by the idea.  
  
“My sister,” Elsa said. “I'm the only one in our family who has magic, and she doesn't know…” Elsa smiled, remembering. “When we were little, Anna and I would build snowmen and skate and go sledding and have snowball fights—all in the palace ballroom. She'd wake me up and wouldn't let me go back to sleep until I'd make it snow for her.  
  
“But something went wrong. I lost control, and Anna got hurt. The trolls in the forest healed her, but they also erased her memories of magic. And now I have to protect her, and learn to control… _this._ ” She held up her clenched fist. “I'm supposed to be queen someday, but everything I touch gets hurt.”  
  
Loki looked over his shoulder at the frozen tree. “So I see,” he said wryly.  
  
She dropped her arm. “I don't know why I'm telling you all this.”  
  
“Your secret is safe with me,” he said. “I have no one in this realm to tell secrets to.”  
  
“What are you doing here, anyway?” Elsa asked.  
  
Loki shrugged. “I like to explore.  _My_  whereabouts are of less interest to my family.”  
  
“Then you're lucky,” Elsa said.  
  
“But I am not destined for a throne,” Loki added. “That privilege will go to my brother. No doubt there'd be a greater fuss if  _he_ wandered off.”  
  
“Then you're  _really_  lucky,” Elsa said.  
  
“If Thor were better prepared for rule, I might agree. Princes have more fun than kings, after all.” Loki flashed another smile.  
  
“And more than princesses,” Elsa said. “At least in Arendelle. Poor Anna—she should be having more fun, with balls or banquets and things. But she has to be locked up too, just to be safe. All because of me.”  
  
Loki turned away without a word. Elsa's shoulders slumped. The first new person she'd spoken to in years, and she managed to put him off with her self-pity and angst. But he only picked up her discarded glove and brought it back.  
  
“Can't have any more accidents now, can we?” he asked, handing it to her.  
  
“Thanks,” Elsa said. She pulled it back on. “Too bad I can't get the horse back just as easily." She closed her eyes and groaned. "If he reaches the palace stables, he's sure to give me away.”  
  
Loki responded by wiggling the fingers of one hand, creating a small, shimmering cloud. With one smooth motion, he threw it forward. Elsa watched it speed away.

"What was that for?"

"You'll see," he said.

“What's it like?” she asked, almost breathless. “To not have to worry about what people think of your magic?”

“I never thought about it until now,” Loki said. “Controlling it took a great deal of time and practice. My mother taught me much of it. A shame you have no one to teach you to hone your powers, but Midgard is hardly famous for its magic forces.”

“I don't want to hone them,” Elsa said. “I want to be  _rid_  of them! I want to wake up and find it's all been a bad dream.”

“Do not speak so,” Loki said. “You have a great gift. It is the realm that is unworthy of it—not you.”

“I didn't ask for this,” Elsa said.

“Yes, I'm afraid that is how Fate works,” Loki replied. “If I were honest, I would say that I did not ask to be the second son, denied the throne of Asgard. But Fate deals everyone a few bad cards, and these appear to be ours.”

Elsa was trying to think of a response when she heard a soft whinny and heard hoofbeats.

“My horse!” she gasped. The animal trotted into view, led by the shining cloud. Loki held up a hand and absorbed the cloud back into his palm. Elsa grabbed the horse's reins, but it was calm and did not try to escape this time.

“Thank you! But…I should go back now,” she said, her voice tinged with regret. “I only meant to get some fresh air.”

“I imagine you got more than you bargained for,” Loki said, laughing.

Elsa mounted the horse and settled into the saddle.

“I'd invite you back to the palace as our guest,” she said, “since you know our great secret already. But my parents will be furious, and Anna would be sure to ask questions—”

“Do not worry about hospitality, little princess,” Loki said cryptically. “I fear that I am not the ideal houseguest, even from one royal to another.”

“Oh.” Elsa was not sure what else to say. She liked this stranger, and was unwilling to leave his company. But she had to get back before she was discovered. “Where  _are_  you staying?”

“I will return to Asgard tonight,” he said. “I think I have seen the best that Midgard has to offer.”

It took Elsa a moment to realize what he meant. She bit her lip nervously, again at a loss for words.

“I must look for another opportunity to visit Arendelle in particular,” he went on, moving to stand beside the horse. “Perhaps in your wintertime, when you will be more”—again he glanced back at the frozen tree, now thawing and dripping in the warm night air—“ _comfortable_.”

“Do try,” Elsa said, trying to sound casual. “Thank you, Prince Loki, it's been…a delight to meet you.”

He took her hand in what she thought was to be a friendly shake, but he pinched the tips of two of her fingers and deftly removed the glove. Elsa instinctively made another fist. Loki took her small, pale hand again and coaxed her fingers to unclench. His eyes locked on hers as he leaned over to kiss her hand. Elsa almost wished there was less moonlight, that he could not see her blush.

“Farewell, Princess Elsa of Arendelle,” he said, giving her one last smile as he handed back her glove.

She smiled back and bowed her head before turning the horse around and trotting back toward the palace. A flash of multicolored light briefly illuminated the trees. When Elsa looked back over her shoulder, the prince was gone.


	2. In Memoriam

_We only have each other, it's just you and me…What are we gonna do?_   
  
Anna's words echoed over and over in Elsa's head as she picked her way though the tall grasses to the cemetery. In the moonlight, far from the other headstones, she saw the gleam of the large, carved boulders placed there in memory of the most recently deceased king and queen of Arendelle.   
  
Elsa had not answered Anna—she _couldn't_ answer her. She did not know what they would do now. Oh, there were _practical_ answers. Their father's chief advisers would serve as regents for the next few years, helping to train Elsa to reign as queen when she came of age. The palace would stay closed off. Anna would still be protected. Secrets must be kept. Elsa would have to open the palace at her coronation, but maybe things could change by then…   
  
Anna knew all that already. Those were not the answers she wanted when she sat outside her elder sister's bedroom door and pleaded for company, for conversation, for consolation. Anna wanted to know what else could change, what would stay the same, what would become of her. She wanted an explanation for the years of estrangement between them. She wanted Elsa to come out of hiding and embrace her, to stroke her hair and kiss her cheek and tell her that everything was going to be all right, that there was nothing to fear.   
  
Elsa could offer none of that. How could she comfort her sister when she had nothing inside her but fear? How could she embrace her, when the lightest touch could bring Anna an icy death? How could Elsa tell Anna that all the pain and misunderstanding over the years were meant to protect her? How was Elsa supposed to admit that the years of silence and gloom in Arendelle were all because of her? At least Anna still loved her _now_ . If the truth came out, Anna would not forgive her.   
  
Elsa stood before the two enormous rocks, twice her own height. They were only memorials, not gravestones. The king and queen had been lost at sea, their bodies never recovered. Anna had attended the service alone, while Elsa stayed behind to cower in her snowy room, not daring to step outside with her emotions in such turmoil.   
  
Kneeling before the boulders, Elsa covered her face with her gloved hands, sorrow and self-hatred coursing through her blood. She had finally managed to control her emotions enough to visit the site on her own, in the dark and quiet of night. Now, she was not sure it had not been a mistake.   
  
“Why did you have to leave us?” she whispered. “I don't know what to do.”   
  
There was no answer but the rustle of grass in the breeze. She heard a wolf howl deep in the forest, too far away to be a concern. Elsa heaved a shuddering breath. A tear escaped her eye, hit the grass, and burst into a patch of frost several feet wide.   
  
Elsa leaped to her feet, but the frost did not spread any further. She stood still, catching her breath, trying to calm down. It was a warm night, but she wrapped her arms around herself and shivered. Perhaps it was time to go back, before she did any more damage.   
  
“Elsa,” a low voice said.   
  
Her head snapped up and she looked around frantically. That voice…heard so long ago, and yet still familiar. Surely it was the wind, and her own imagination, making her only think she heard things.   
  
She couldn't resist. “Loki?” she whispered.   
  
There was a rustling, a footfall, and the prince of Asgard stepped out from behind one of the boulders. Something inside Elsa cringed at the thought of him hiding behind her mother's memorial, seeing her in such private misery. But another part of her was glad to see him.   
  
“I came to offer my condolences,” he said.   
  
“You knew?”   
  
He nodded. “We have ways of seeing into other realms from Asgard.”   
  
She remembered how he had given her a glimpse of his own home. Elsa turned away to look at the inscription on her father's stone. “I keep hoping it's just a nightmare, and I'll wake up. Or that they survived somehow, somewhere. I don't want them to be gone.”   
  
“I'm sorry,” he said. After a pause, he asked, “I suppose I have the honor of addressing the Queen of Arendelle, then?”   
  
Elsa shook her head. “Not for three years, when I'm twenty-one.”   
  
“And in the meantime?”   
  
“Practice?” she said, shrugging. “My father had his advisors, and one of them was an old tutor of mine. I don't suppose the kingdom will go to ruin. That'll happen after my coronation, no doubt.”   
  
“It is rather amazing what you mortals all try to accomplish in such short lifespans,” Loki said, with a slight smirk.   
  
Elsa glared at him. “My parents' lifespans weren't supposed to be so _short_ .”   
  
“No,” he agreed.   
  
They both fell quiet. Elsa stared at the patch of frosty grass, watching it thaw, and Loki studied the engravings on the boulders.   
  
“I looked for you,” Elsa murmured. “That winter…and the next. When it was cold and snowy enough, I was allowed to go out of the palace sometimes. I went back to those trees, but I never saw you.”   
  
“Yes,” Loki said, drawing out the word, as though carefully choosing his next. “I'm afraid time on Asgard flows a little differently than it does here. There were…tensions, shall we say, with some of the powers of Nornheim. My brother found himself in charge of a company of warriors, and recruited me along with them. They were in need of my particular skills.”   
  
“I'm sure they were,” Elsa said dryly.   
  
Loki turned to face her fully. “Hold your breath,” he said.   
  
“Why—” Elsa started to say. Before she could finish, they were surrounded by a thick, black smoke. It pressed against her eyes, blinding her, and threatened to invade her mouth and nostrils.   
  
“Loki!” she chided, but even that one word brought some of it into her lungs. She doubled over, coughing and choking.   
  
With a wave of Loki's hands, the smoke dissipated. Bending down, he held Elsa by the shoulders.   
  
“Don't panic,” he said. “Just breathe. Get it out.”   
  
Elsa gasped and sputtered a little more, puffs of smoke coming out of her nose and mouth. Finally she had enough air to speak again.   
  
“What was _that?_ ”   
  
Loki grinned and straightened his posture. “Just a demonstration. It got my brother and his soldiers out of the realm before the enemy even knew they'd gone.”   
  
“Very clever,” Elsa said. She coughed one more time. “I think I could have done without the demonstration.”   
  
“If your kingdom were ever under threat of war, your powers would be a great asset to its defense,” Loki said.   
  
“Indeed,” Elsa said, scoffing. “Terrify the enemy, and my own subjects too. Then be captured and executed as a witch when the war is over.”   
  
“Not quite,” Loki said.   
  
Elsa jerked her chin towards the frosty grass. “It's hard to imagine something useful coming from _that_ .”   
  
“But if you learned to control it—”   
  
“I've tried for eighteen years!” Elsa said. “It's only gotten worse. It hardly stops snowing in my own bedroom. I can't even shed a tear at my parents' graves! The greater my fear, the stronger the magic, but the stronger the magic, the more afraid I am. What am I supposed to do?”   
  
“Elsa,” Loki said, “I did not come here merely to offer condolences. I came with an invitation.”   
  
“To what?”   
  
“For you to come with me to Asgard, as my guest. I can help you learn to control your magic.”   
  
“You could?” she asked.   
  
“Of course,” he said. With a peculiar tilt of his chin, Elsa caught the haughty manner that bespoke his royal upbringing. “You are powerful—for a mortal—but you could not cause any permanent damage in Asgard. My powers are stronger, and I learned to control them. Besides,” he added, grinning, “my mother would teach you too, and she would be glad to meet you.”   
  
Elsa's eyes were enormous as she stared at him. “You told your mother about me?”   
  
“You're surprised?” he asked, his expression mischievous.   
  
“Well…you hardly know me. What was there to tell?”   
  
“Queen Frigga is a rather powerful sorceress herself. She was intrigued to hear of a mortal with your magic. There has always been magic in this realm, but for a human to possess it…that is a rare thing.”   
  
Elsa looked down at her gloved hands. “Did you tell her you met a cursed princess who is such a danger to the world that she had to be locked away?”   
  
“I told her that I went to explore Midgard, and encountered a mortal more fascinating than most. I said that Princess Elsa of Arendelle has the potential for greatness, but lacks the freedom to hone it.”   
  
Elsa looked back up at him. He was grinning, and his eyes sparkled a little in the moonlight. “I'm afraid to take you seriously,” she said.   
  
“I mean it, Elsa.”   
  
He reached out to her with both hands, and Elsa instinctively shied away. He took a step closer to her and tried again. This time she kept still as he gently cupped her face in his hands. Her heart pounded and her spine tingled at the first sensation of another person's skin on hers since…she could not remember when.   
  
“Come back to Asgard with me,” he said. “As my guest, you'll have every royal privilege. And _freedom_ , like you've never known.”   
  
She stared at him in baffled silence. It was almost too much to take in. Here was a way of escape, a way to live the way she wanted, to be who she was born to be. He was offering her everything she wanted—a life without fear.   
  
“I can't,” she whispered.   
  
“Of course you can.”   
  
“No, I mean…my sister, Anna. I can't leave her now.”   
  
“Hel take your sister!” he said, dropping his hands and taking a step back. “You owe her nothing. She thinks you hate her, does she not?”   
  
“Yes, but…” Elsa choked back tears. “I _don't_ . And I can't leave her thinking that I do.”   
  
“Then tell her who you are.”   
  
“No…not yet.”   
  
“You cannot go on living like this,” Loki said.   
  
“Don't tell me what I can't do!” Elsa snapped. “You don't know what I've been through. You can't understand what it's like— _you_ won't inherit a throne! Maybe _you_ can go off exploring other worlds and no one cares, but I can't just abandon everything.”   
  
Loki's eyes flashed and he clenched his jaw. Elsa stood still when she saw the look on his face; not since they first met had she been so frightened of him.   
  
“At least I am not so afraid of my own shadow that I have to lock myself away from the world,” Loki said. Elsa's lips parted slightly. His words were colder to her heart than any blast from her magic. “Your powers are no use to you if you keep yourself holed up,” he added.   
  
“I don't need to use them,” Elsa whispered. “I just want to be able to hide them.”   
  
“That can be arranged, if you wish,” he said. “You may argue as long as you like, and still you know that things cannot remain as they are.”   
  
“They won't,” she said. “I…I'll figure something out.”   
  
“And you have done _so well_ all these years.”   
  
Elsa groaned and pressed her fists to her forehead. “Oh, why did you come here? Just leave me _alone!_ ” In a childish moment, she stamped her foot, sending frost shooting out from beneath it.   
  
She gasped, staggering backward. Wherever she stepped, the graze froze instantly. “No,” she moaned. “Not now. Please, no…not now…”   
  
Loki rushed forward and took her by the arm. He ripped off one of her gloves and grasped the hand beneath it. Soon Elsa felt that neutralization, a calming of her magical energy—if not her emotions—that she had felt when they first met and he had stopped her from running away.   
  
“You see?” he said wryly. “And you say you cannot leave all this.” He bent down until his lips were close to her ear. “Is it not exhausting, Elsa, to live this way? Freedom is within your grasp, and with it, power, and protection. Just say yes, and we will be on our way.”   
  
“But why?” Elsa asked. “Why _should_ you help me?”   
  
“I beg your pardon?”   
  
“Why do you care? What difference is it to you whether I can control this, or whether I stay in my room forever?”   
  
Loki drew back, frowning again. “Now _I_ need a reason?” Elsa cocked her head and lifted her eyebrows skeptically. Loki let go of her hand with a look of disgust.   
  
“Very well, then,” he said. He took a deep breath and again raised his chin. “I am desperately in love with you—from that first moment I saw you. You've captured my heart, and now I cannot rest until I have made you unspeakably happy, and I am offering you a chance in the only way I know how.”   
  
Elsa felt her cheeks coloring at his words, but there was just enough of an edge in his tone to keep her from coming close to believing them.   
  
“That answer does not satisfy you, I see,” Loki said. Clasping his hands behind his back, he paced in a circle around her. Elsa watched him, turning in place, feeling as though were being stalked by a hungry wolf. “All right then—I offer my friendship and my help to gain your trust and loyalty, in hopes that you will become a powerful ally when I seize the throne from my witless oaf of a brother.”   
  
At Elsa's horrified expression, he chuckled. “What does it say of a maiden that she believes such a mercenary plot over a declaration of love?” Elsa did not reply.   
  
“Or, perhaps you are simply the most intriguing creature I have encountered in this uncultured and uninspired realm, and my charity stems from my dislike of seeing talent like yours go to waste.” He waved a hand, as though presenting a prize. “Choose whichever explanation suits you best, Your Highness.”   
  
“I want the truth,” Elsa said. “They can't all be true.”   
  
“Can't they?”   
  
“You barely know me—you can't be in love with me. And I would _never_ help you stage a coup against your own brother.”   
  
“A pity,” he said, sighing.   
  
“Did you mean that?” Elsa asked. “Is…that _really_ why you want me to come to Asgard with you?”   
  
She stared at his face, terrified of his answer. But then an odd look flickered across his features, and he burst into laughter. Elsa started at the sudden sound.   
  
“You must forgive me, Your Highness,” he said around his laughs. “Most people in Asgard do not bother to take me seriously. It may suit you to do likewise.”   
  
Elsa took several unsteady steps back from him. “You're mad,” she said. “You're dangerous and you're utterly mad.”   
  
“You've only just realized?” Loki asked, no longer laughing but still smirking.   
  
“I have to go.” Elsa turned away, but he snatched her hand before she could get far.   
  
“Elsa,” he said, the mirth still in his voice, “if I were to attempt an overthrow of the throne—and I have no plans to do so now—I would not call upon the untamed powers of a young Midgardian sorceress.”   
  
She shook off his hand. “Then what was all _that_ about?”   
  
“I was curious as to your response.”   
  
“That's not funny!”   
  
“Humor is very subjective.”   
  
“I've had enough of this,” Elsa said. But when she tried to step away, once again she froze the ground with every footfall.   
  
With a cry of frustration, she fell to her knees and slammed her fists into the ground, forgetting that one hand was still missing its glove. A wall of ice shot upward from the earth, encircling her in a small fort. Elsa panted for breath, afraid to move at all. Curses on Loki for making her lose her temper! And shame on her for losing control— _again_ . Her breath came out in smoky puffs, the sound resonating off the slick, frozen wall.   
  
As she crouched there, Elsa began to hear a crackling sound on the other side of the ice. The sound grew louder, and tiny fissures appeared and spread across the wall. Just in time, she ducked and covered her head as the ice crumbled and fell into a heap, some of it on top of her.   
  
Elsa looked up in time to see Loki tucking something into his belt. He held out a hand to help her up.   
  
“So,” he said, smiling, “you still want to refuse my help?”   
  
Elsa glowered at him as she took his hand and climbed back to her feet. “I don't understand you,” she said, brushing ice off of herself.   
  
“If you claimed you did, then you'd be a fool,” he said. “I do not think the future queen of Arendelle is _that_ .” He looked at her pointedly. “Unless she squandered a most advantageous opportunity.”   
  
“I told you,” Elsa said. “I can't leave Anna. She's fifteen—she's still a child. Maybe it would not make a great difference to her life if I were gone, but she already thinks I don't care about her. I can't leave her now, so soon after our parents…and if word got out that I fled the kingdom…”   
  
Loki shook his head. “I am astonished at such firm and consistent refusal.”   
  
Remembering his fierce look and bitter words earlier, Elsa felt a tremor of apprehension. “Is this where you threaten me if I continue to refuse?”   
  
“Of course not,” Loki said, looking at her with something that might have been amusement. “I am only marveling at the unexpected.”   
  
Although he seemed to accept her choice, Loki made no move to leave. Elsa, too, found herself unwilling to lose his company. She studied the melting frost on the ground, wringing her hands.   
  
“In three years, Anna will be eighteen,” she said. “I will be crowned queen, and she'll be old enough to make her own choices, to marry…to leave Arendelle, if she wanted. If what you say is true—if you really can help me, if you care in the slightest—can you give me those three years?” She looked up at him. “If you still remember me by then.”   
  
“I could not forget if I tried,” he said.   
  
“So…I suppose I'll be on my way.” Elsa extended her hand in farewell. “Until…later, then.”   
  
Loki nodded solemnly, his palm meeting hers. “Of course,” he said, “I have no great appointment to keep for the present. And you do not want another mishap on your way home.”   
  
His words at their first meeting came back to her. _If I wished harm upon you, don't you think I'd have done it by now?_ “I suppose I wouldn't mind an escort,” Elsa said.   
  
Loki kept hold of Elsa's hand throughout the walk back to the city walls. He was amused by—and secretly admired—the hidden routes she took to bypass the city gates and maneuver dark, narrow alleys. At last they reached the back of the palace, at a door to the kitchens that Elsa had long ago learned was the most unguarded.   
  
“This is where I leave you,” she whispered.   
  
Loki shook his head. “I am still astounded that the queen of Arendelle feels the need to sneak through her city and into secret passages like a thieving kitchenmaid.”   
  
“That's because I'm not the queen yet,” Elsa said. “Goodbye, Loki.”   
  
“Goodbye, Elsa,” Loki said. “And I meant what I said.”   
  
“When?”   
  
He grinned. “Whichever pleases you.”   
  
“That still leaves a few contradictions,” she said, giving him a reproving look.   
  
Loki did not reply—at least, not in words. His eyes silently scanned her face for a few moments, until she thought he would say nothing more.   
  
Elsa began to turn away when she felt his hands on her shoulders. She realized what he was doing a half-second before he lowered his head. She closed her eyes as his lips met hers, his arms encircling her small waist and pulling her closer to him. Elsa kissed him back, her mind in a fog such that she did not know if they stood there for seconds or hours.   
  
By the time they leaned away from each other, her hands had moved, cradling his face between them. She dropped her arms, but could not seem to break her icy-blue eyes from Loki's emerald gaze. Trembling slightly, Elsa stood a step back, a little dumbfounded at what had just happened.   
  
Finally, Loki cleared his throat and broke the silence. “If you believe nothing else I tell you,” he said, brushing a stray lock of Elsa's white-blonde hair, “believe that I am truly sorry for your loss.”   
  
Tears catching in her throat, Elsa could only nod. She gave him one final look, hoping it was thanks enough, before she slipped through the kitchen door. As she passed between stoves, tables, and crates of supplies, the room was temporarily illuminated by a flash of multicolored light through a window. Elsa already knew not to look outside; she would only find that the Asgardian prince had vanished.


	3. Meanwhile in Asgard

“You ought to take in some fresh air,” Thor was telling his brother. “A few rounds in the Warrior's Field would do you good, I doubt not.”  
  
“I have little appetite for sparring with the likes of you—or Fandral, or Hogun,” Loki said, not looking at Thor as he peeled an orange. “Last week's skirmish was enough to satisfy me for quite some time.”  
  
The brothers were enjoying an unusually quiet breakfast in the palace of Asgard. Their father Odin, the king, was meeting with advisers and soothsayers. Their mother, Frigga, was surely in her garden on such a beautiful day.  
  
“Your appetite for combat used to be heartier, it seems to me,” Thor said. “You cannot rely solely on tricks and spells, Loki. You should sharpen your fighting skills, too—by the time you need them, it will be too late.”  
  
Loki smiled, hearing an echo of the king's words in the crown prince's voice. “If I practice too much, I may surpass  _your_ fighting skill,” he said. “You and your war-bride would not like to share my glory, I'd wager,” he added, referring to the hammer Mjolnir that, like a covetous lover, was never far from Thor's side.  
  
The elder prince's booming laugh shook the walls of the dining hall. “Perhaps you dream of such things, brother, but I assure you that such victory shall never be yours!” He stood and took one last swig from his goblet before picking up his “bride” by its short handle. “Suit yourself, then, with your magic and scrolls in the dusty library. It is the Warrior's Field for me.”  
  
Loki did not linger at the table long after Thor had excused himself. But when he left, it was not for the library. There, he might be disturbed, however remote the possibility. Instead, he returned to his own apartments. He kept a collection of books and scrolls in his own small study, but he had no need of them now. Instead, he sat on a couch to clear his mind in preparation for his own form of training.  
  
The first few moments were easy enough. He was well skilled now in conjuring the orb between his palms, in which he could see across vast distances. It grew as he drew has hands apart, and the vision inside took shape. He could see mountains, fjords, and forests as though he looked down upon them in flight. He saw a structure rise up, a palace encircled by a wall.  
  
The image drew lower, nearer, until it looked as though he could alight on the wall. He felt an ache in his temples, but he kept on, his Sight breaking through the wall and into the castle's forbidding front door. At last he was looking into the great, grand entryway of the palace of Arendelle.  
  
A broad staircase swept up in graceful curves to the higher floors, and suits of armor lined one wall. A silent servant passed in and out of his line of vision. A portrait of a young couple hung near the stairs, draped in black mourning fabric. Loki knew them to be the late king and queen. He wondered how long the painting had been hung like that. It should have been a year gone by at least, for Midgard. In the realm of Asgard, where one could expect to live a few millennia, time moved a little differently.  
  
Loki narrowed his eyes and clenched his teeth. Here is where it got tricky. The vision inside the orb rotated, moving to the stairs as though he were turning his head to see it. As Loki concentrated, his Sight moved up the staircase, one slow step at a time. Head pounding, he finally reached the second floor and took a deep breath.  
  
A little magic allowed him to get a bird's-eye view into other realms, but it took a great deal more energy and skill to see into cities as though he walked their streets, or to peek into parlors as though he were a welcomed guest. For months now, he had exerted all his energy to see Arendelle this way, without leaving his own home. The magic was a true test of his ability, and much of it was still beyond him. He had not yet managed to get further that this very spot.  
  
The muscles in his neck and jaw burned as he nudged the vision one step forward. He could explore this whole castle, if only he had the training and stamina. There was a door close to the stairs—could he pass through it?  
  
Loki heard a knock at the door— _his_  door. The sound was soft, but it jarred him, and he lost focus. The vision in its sphere drew back, reversing its course, until it was once again a distant image of mountains and water.  
  
“What do you want?” Loki asked gruffly. The door opened, and an older blonde woman peeked around it. “Mother,” he said, hardly more gently.  
  
“Thor said you would be in the library,” Frigga said. “When I did not find you there, I looked in the next most likely place.”  
  
“I hardly think it Thor's affair how I spend my time,” Loki said, waving his hands to dissolve the image between them.  _Or yours_ , he added silently.  
  
Frigga stepped into the dim room, closing the door behind her. “Your brother is concerned about you.”  
  
Loki scoffed. “Thor is only concerned about running out of opponents to hammer into the ground.”  
  
“He did say you have not been on the Warrior's Field so often of late,” Frigga said. “I see you have not been idle, at least.”  
  
“I have my own skills to practice. I have little interest in joining my brother and his ilk at their battle games.”  
  
“I do not doubt it,” Frigga said. “But it is not only Thor who worries about you, Loki. I think you have been too sullen and reclusive lately—even more than usual,” she added with a little smile. “Do you think you have nothing more to learn, that you do all your conjuring in solitude?”  
  
Loki sighed and rubbed his temples. “I meant no offense to your own powers,” he said. “This is none of your concern.”  
  
“Mothers are most often curious about things that are none of their concern,” Frigga said, crossing the room to sit beside him. “Does this, perhaps, have anything to do with your visit to Midgard?”  
  
Loki flashed her a look of surprise before he could hide it—though he already had less success hiding from Frigga than from anyone else.  
  
“How did—?” He stopped himself. “ _Heimdall_ ,” he growled. “Of course. The gatekeeper to the realm, and yet he cannot keep the smallest secret.”  _One way or another, I will have to find other means of traveling without the Bifrost_.  
  
“He is bound to no one but the Allfather, you know that,” Frigga said, referring to one of the king's other titles. “And he did not come to me, or anyone, with your whereabouts. I asked  _him_  where you'd been only because I had seen the change in your mood and doubted how forthright you would be.”  
  
“What did he tell you?”  
  
“That you'd been to Midgard—again. Long ago, I might have been surprised that you would visit a realm you hold in so little regard. But if I presumed that you were visiting your princess, would I not be correct?”  
  
“She is hardly  _my_ princess,” Loki said.  _Would that she were_. “Nor like to be, as unwavering as she is.”  
  
“Loki, what have you done?” Frigga asked, in a tone more accusatory than perhaps she had intended.  
  
He stood up and, affecting a casual impression, folded his arms and leaned against the wall. “What I  _tried_ to do was help the girl. You recall what I said of her powers?” Frigga nodded, and he continued. “I have not had the misfortune of encountering a great deal of Midgardians, but those I have seen were never capable of her skills. I went to extend an invitation. I said that I could help her practice her magic, to better control it, if she came here, as a visitor.”  
  
“Ah,” Frigga said. “And…she is not here.”  
  
Loki hid the scowl he wanted to make.  
  
“Perhaps that is for the best,” Frigga went on. “You had no right to make such an offer, Loki. The Allfather would hardly allow a mortal to cross the boundaries of Yggdrasil. You should not have invited her here without his permission, which I doubt you asked for.”  
  
Loki shrugged. “Better to ask forgiveness than permission,” he said with a grin.  
  
“The worlds are separate for a reason,” Frigga said. Her son did not reply, and she hesitated before softening her tone to ask the next question. “What did she say, this princess?”  
  
Looking down to feign an interest in his boots, Loki said, “She has a younger sister and will not be parted from her. I might as well tell you, I have observed the affairs of her kingdom, and I paid my visit not only to invite her here, but to give my regrets at the news of her parents' passing.”  
  
“That was kind of you.” She smiled at him. He shifted his weight, somehow more annoyed at being caught in an act of kindness than in one of disobedience.  
  
“The kingdom is small and remote, yet she clings to it and would not leave it in the hands of another. Though I suppose I cannot begrudge her that—her sister is the dullest of mortals, and  _she_  is hardly fit to be queen.”  
  
“But you begrudge her her refusal? Loki, the girl has lost her parents, and she is to wear a crown. Of course she is confused and overburdened, and I am sure she gave you the answer she thought best. This is not the sorrow of a spurned lover—this is the petulance of a child who has lost his toy.”  
  
“We are not  _lovers_ , Mother. I simply mislike the idea of wasted magic. And she is not a  _toy_.”  
  
“Then I hope, for her sake, you do not treat her as something even less.”  
  
Loki arranged his features into an enigmatic expression. He knew from the queen's piercing blue gaze, however, that she saw her comment had found its mark. There was a small, tight knot forming somewhere in his middle that felt like guilt—a sentiment with which he was not overly familiar. He had been almost amused at Elsa's refusal, and buoyed by her request to wait, recognizing that it was not a complete rejection. Nevertheless, once he left Arendelle, his offense grew and three years seemed interminable, even by Asgardian standards. Frigga's scolding tone was enough to make him wonder if he wasn't being a  _little_ bit selfish.  
  
It must have been guilt; he did not know what else would compel him to disclose further details. “She…did not give me an  _absolute_  refusal,” he said. He did not look at her, but he could  _feel_  his mother's disapproval from across the room.  
  
“Then what did she say?”  
  
“She asked me to wait until her coronation—three years from when I made the invitation. She will be of age then, and more at ease about her sister, she says.”  
  
“Three years is a very little time, Loki,” Frigga said.  
  
“It is nothing to us,” he said. Normally it was true, but it did not seem like it now. It was absurd, to the point of being laughable, but he almost missed the human queen for her company alone.  
  
“I know that you have never been one to yield easily,” Frigga said. “Your peevishness about having to wait makes it clear that circumstances are not as you wanted them. That you mean to hold out for the appointed time—that you conceded to the request of another—tells me that you care for this mortal girl more than you wish to confess.”  
  
She stood from the couch and approached him. He still refused to look at her, but when she placed a hand against his cheek, Loki's green eyes flickered to hers. He could allow no more than that brief moment, for fear of what she would find. She had already seen too much.  
  
“Be patient, my son,” she said. “It is a lesson you still require. Keep your promise and wait the time you have set. The young lady is not going anywhere, if her situation is as you claim. For once, do as you say—and be all the better for it.”  
  
“And if I go back…and still she will not come?” he asked.  
  
“Then you will be gracious, wish her well, and let her be.”  
  
Some time after that, Thor looked up from his defeated opponent to see Loki sauntering across the Warrior's Field.  
  
“You've decided to join us at last, brother!” Thor said, his loud observation formed almost as a question.  
  
“On the contrary,” Loki said, “I am asking  _you_ to join  _me_.”  
  
“I have no interest in sharing your tricks, Loki,” Thor said, momentarily turning away to shake hands with his friend Hogun and compliment his fighting style.  
  
Loki rolled his eyes. “I would ask you to participate in magic only if I wanted to see the palace blown up by accident.”  
  
“What is it you want, then?”  
  
The younger prince smiled. This would be interesting. “What would you say to a journey to Midgard?”


	4. Coronation Day

“Conceal—don't feel,” Elsa told her reflection. “Put on a show.”  
  
Her twenty-first birthday had arrived, and with it, her coronation day. To an extent, it was a day of death as well—the end of a specific life, of her childhood, of her confinement, of what last shred of freedom she had. If she thought she was burdened before, it was a summer holiday compared to the weight of a crown. Her days of hiding had come to an end.  
  
Elsa looked down at her hands, encased in soft, sea-green gloves. The fine silk was fitting for a young queen. Over the past few years, she had practiced control of her powers, and little by little, she managed to build up stronger walls to contain her emotions and keep her magic in check.  
  
Her gaze dropped to the surface of her vanity table and the hairbrush lying on it. She pulled off her gloves and stared at the brush, creating an air of indifference. It was only a hairbrush, an object of no significance. She reached for it calmly, grasped it and brought it to her scalp. As she pulled it through her hair, the handle stayed gold and cool to the touch. When she had finished styling the silver-blond locks, Elsa was pleased to see that the hairbrush was not cold and frosted over. It was a good sign.  
  
Improper as it may have been for the queen to dress herself and set her own hair on such an important day—or on any day—it was the least of the eccentricities that permeated Arendelle Castle. Elsa's potentially fatal magic kept her in fear of harming anyone, even an anonymous serving girl who was unlikely to stir up any strong emotion. Her desire to protect others and to hide her power ensured that nobody could touch her.  
  
Nobody, save for one person whose magic exceeded her own…  
  
Elsa's heart skipped and her stomach flipped at the memory of Loki, the prince of Asgard, second son of Odin the king. It had been nearly three years since she had last seen him, and she had tried not to think about him in that time. Now she was twenty-one, about to be crowned a monarch. Her sister Anna was eighteen, and no longer a child to be coddled and sheltered. Now was the time when Elsa  _had_ to think of him, at least to be on the alert. She had asked him to wait, but would he remember? Would he come for her, as he said?  
  
“He might not,” she told herself. She was not sure what she wanted. If he did not come at all, that would simplify things. But if he did…if he came to do what he promised he would do…what then?  
  
Anna would play hostess to whatever guests were still at the palace. She would like that, after living so long in seclusion. Elsa's advisors and regents, who had served Arendelle so well since her parents' deaths, would keep order, as they always had. If there were questions or suspicions about Elsa leaving the kingdom so soon after her coronation, she would say she was making her first diplomatic visit—to the Southern Isles, perhaps, or beyond. No one had to know she was traveling to a mythological realm by means she did not understand.  
  
Elsa looked up at her reflection again and saw that her pale cheeks had turned quite pink. Even alone, she was embarrassed by how much thought she had put into this. She'd had three years to ponder the possibilities, the details, the consequences. She closed her eyes and sighed. She had made plans all in the hopes of carrying them out. She  _wanted_ him to come back.  
  
“But he might not,” she repeated. She had not heard from him in all that time. Not that she had a right to expect it, but still…Better to go on as if he would not come.  
  
Styled and dressed, Elsa turned to the scepter and globe on her bedside table. They were perfect imitations of the real ones she would carry as she was named queen of Arendelle. She picked them up now, but without first concentrating and composing her feelings. Anxiety over the upcoming ceremony and her thoughts of Loki tumbled inside her head like foam under an endless waterfall of eventualities. The magic seeped out of her fingers, spreading across the props and coating them in a layer of frost.  
  
Elsa let out a small sound of disgust and quickly put them down. It was no use—not today. She would keep her gloves on for the ceremony. What good was there in being queen if she could not alter a few pointless traditions?  
  
She looked at the clock. It was now or never. She went to the chamber door and threw it open.  
  
“Tell the guards to open up the gates!” Elsa called out.

* * *

Her own coronation ball, and Elsa was bored. It was better than terror, sorrow, or any combination of roiling emotions, she supposed. But in her nightmares, the worst-case scenarios were much more  _dramatic_.  
  
She had not imagined such interminable tedium as a parade of dignitaries, nobles, and others of fame and fortune came before her, mostly alone or in pairs. They offered the same congratulations, the same well wishes, the same conversational observations about the ceremony or the palace. A few offered stale condolences for Elsa and Anna's parents.  
  
Elsa recited the greetings, replies, and phrases of courtesy she had been taught, feeling more disingenuous with every syllable. What trick of Fate had made  _her_ queen? She stood straight and tall, with a plastered smile, wishing she could retreat to her room again, or ride a horse out to the countryside, where…but it was best not to think of that now.  
  
A trio of sisters had entered the great hall and seemed to be having a quiet squabble over who would go first in approaching the queen. It was unseemly behavior—the girls must have been lower-born, or visitors from a less cultured land. Elsa took advantage of the gap to glance at Anna.  
  
The younger princess was not bored—and why should she be? Faced with more people than she'd ever seen in her life, Anna had hardly blinked all day. She looked tired of standing, and Elsa knew she felt awkward to be in her sister's company for the longest time since she could remember. But Anna watched every approaching visitor with equal fascination. Not so tightly bound by etiquette as the queen, Princess Anna could follow up the initial, obligatory greetings with whatever remark seemed suitable to her. Her warmth and spontaneity charmed visitors where the queen's cool regality failed to enchant, and Elsa was glad to have her at her side.  
  
“Oh my goodness, who are  _they?_ ” Anna muttered under her breath.  
  
Elsa's attention had wandered after the introduction of the three sisters. She tried to remember what name the footman had announced—or  _had_ he announced one? When she looked toward the entryway, the floor seemed to open up beneath her feet.  
  
Two men in exotic, ornamented uniforms came forward. One of them was tall and broad, ruddy and golden-haired as though he were born from the sun itself. The room's many candles and lamps glinted off his silver pieces of armor, and a long red cape added to the fiery effect.  
  
Beside him, slightly shorter and more slender, wearing a forest-green cape over black, gold-studded leather, was Loki. Elsa forgot her rehearsed courtesies—indeed,  _all_ language escaped her as the two approached. From the way the green eyes sparkled in his pale face, and the way his lips curved into a wicked smirk, the dark-haired prince was well aware of the impact.  
  
Every eye in heaven and earth seemed to be on Elsa as the two visitors each bent a knee and saluted her.  
  
“Your Majesty,” the golden man said, his deep voice booming through the hall, “I am Thor Odinson, crown prince of Asgard, here with my brother, Loki. We have traveled far to pay our respects to the newly crowned Queen of Arendelle.”  
  
“R-rise…and be welcome, Your Royal Highnesses,” Elsa said, alert and uncertain now that she was going off-script.  
  
As they stood up straight, Thor gestured to Loki. “My brother bears our gift, a gesture of goodwill from the royal family of Asgard.”  
  
Elsa glanced at Anna, and almost laughed. Her younger sister's mouth was ever so slightly open, her eyes the size of dinner plates. Clearly the crown prince's appearance was anything but displeasing. Elsa turned back to them with a genuine smile. “We are humbled and honored by your generosity.”  
  
Loki had dropped his smile during Thor's introduction, but the mischief had not left his eyes. They met Elsa's for a moment as he took two steps closer, and she felt her stomach turn over again, more violently this time. She had been so astonished at his presence that she had not noticed what he carried. He held up a scabbard, just over a foot long, made of what appeared to be burnished bronze and covered with elaborate engravings. At the end of the sheath was the handle of a weapon, a reddish gold inlaid with jewels that caught and scattered the room's light.  
  
“I present to you Villieldr, one of a dozen burning daggers forged by the fire jötnar of Muspelheim,” Loki said. His tone was solemn, but still there was that look when Elsa peeked up at him. She could not long glance away from the gift, though; it attracted every eye.  
  
“Go on,” he whispered. “Have a look.”  
  
Her fingers trembled slightly as Elsa reached for the handle. Loki kept hold of the scabbard as she slowly drew out a long dagger with a treacherously sharp blade. Beside her, Anna gasped. The steel seemed to shine with a light of its own. The blade was warm—even hot—though the handle was comfortable in her hand.  
  
“What could I do with such a gift?” Elsa spoke softly, overawed.  
  
“Stab all your foes, of course,” Thor said, punctuating the suggestion with a hearty chuckle. Elsa looked at him, surprised, and saw a twinkle in his brilliant blue eyes. Yes, they certainly were brothers. She turned back to Loki, who leaned toward her conspiratorially.  
  
“It seemed a fitting gift,” he murmured. “I imagine this could be useful to you, if you ever lose that icy temper of yours again.”  
  
Her magic could not harm him, but for a moment Elsa wondered if her new dagger could. She was not about to try to drive Villieldr through his chest in the middle of her coronation—or at all—but she gave him a squinty-eyed, pinched-lip glare that only amused him more.  
  
“The princes of Asgard are most magnanimous,” Elsa said, trying to recover her ceremonious tone as she slid the blade back into its scabbard. “We thank you for such a beautiful and dangerous token.”  
  
“As I said—a fitting gift.”  
  
Elsa felt Anna's eyes burning holes in the side of her face, and she let herself give Loki the tiniest smile. “Forgive us, your highnesses, but we have still more guests to greet. You are, of course, invited to the banquet and ball to follow.”  
  
She spoke loud enough that the attendants around them heard her clearly. She knew they would see to the princes, and hoped that Loki would not cause trouble. It only just then occurred to her that she had never seen him by daylight—or indoors—and had little experience with Asgardian manners. But the brothers responded only by repeating their bows and stepping away to give room to the next guests. Despite their foreign garments and intimidating appearances—particularly Thor's—they seemed to melt into the crowd.  
  
Elsa could not hold Villieldr for the rest of the audience, nor could she take it to her room for safekeeping. “Gregor,” she called to the nearest guard. “Take this to your captain. See to it that he keeps it safe until I ask for it.” She hesitated, then added, “He is not to unsheathe it—anyone who does will find the blade buried in a much less comfortable location, do you understand?”  
  
The soldier's eyes widened and he nodded. “Yes, Your Majesty, just as you say.” He seemed afraid even to look at the item she was placing into his care.  
  
Elsa felt a mix of guilt and pride as he hurried away, but she suppressed it before greeting the next visitors who approached. Now that Loki was here, it was an even greater strain to resume her repetitious salutations to much less interesting guests. At long last, the audience with the new queen was over, and it was time for the guests to be fed and entertained with music and dancing.  
  
“Who were those men?” Anna asked as Elsa stepped down from her platform and they moved toward the dining hall. “From…Asgard?”  
  
“Yes, princes from Asgard,” Elsa said. “They're sons of Odin.”  
  
“I've never heard of them. Did you  _know_  them?” she asked eagerly. Obviously her curiosity had overcome her shyness with her sister.  
  
“I've never met the crown prince,” Elsa said.  
  
“But the other one—the dark one? He seemed to know you.”  
  
“We met once or twice, a long time ago,” Elsa said. “I didn't expect him to come.”  
  
“But  _when?_ You never leave your room, not even for most meals. When could you have possibly—” Anna gasped, a drawn-out inhalation framed by smiling lips and flushing cheeks. “Elsa! Do you have a secret lover? Is  _that_ what you've been hiding?”  
  
“Anna,  _please!_ ” Elsa snapped, using the queenly tone she was getting used to. “No more questions. If you want to know more about our guests, you are free to talk to them yourself.”  
  
It was enough to discourage the girl. She bit her lip and nodded, looking thoroughly chastened as she followed her sister to the banquet.  
  
The banquet was course after course of choice saltwater fish, veal, summer salads, fruits from the palace orchards—roasted, fresh, or candied—and sweet pastries. Arendelle had not entertained in over 13 years, but the skill of the palace chefs and bakers gave no hint of it. Anna occasionally neglected her table manners, eager to taste it all, but Elsa was too anxious to take more than a few bites from each plate. Unwilling to talk about herself, she managed to maneuver the conversation to encourage her companions at the table to discuss themselves and their respective countries.  
  
Occasionally she glanced around to see Loki. He and his brother, not formally invited, were not given honored seats close to the queen, but they did not seem offended. The only mishap was when one of the princes—it sounded like Thor—called for more wine and smashed his goblet into the floor. It had made Elsa and most of the other guests jump in their seats before the servants cleaned it up. Elsa clenched her fists for a few moments and willed herself to calm down, dreading the inevitable gossip.  
  
Just when she thought she would be so sick as to bring up all that lavish food, the footmen cleared away the last plates, and she was able to announce the start of the ball.  
  
Unfortunately, the change in activity only brought a new set of concerns. Elsa had been careful not to shake hands or so much as brush up against a guest or member of the palace staff. Now, as a small band was playing, the visitors began to pair off. More than one of them were eager to dance with the new queen, even if Elsa was cementing a reputation for being cool and aloof. In this, however, gossip could not matter; Elsa dared not let any of them touch her. She turned a few down with as much grace as she could manage, and in one of her more playful moments pawned Anna off on the Duke of Weselton. Still, she did not know how she could keep up her refusals. Besides that, she was tired.  
  
She closed her eyes for a few seconds and took a deep breath. When she opened them again, she gave a start. Loki was standing beside her.  
  
“I must say, your musicians are skilled, even if the tunes are not quite to my taste,” Loki said.  
  
“We are lucky to have such talent in Arendelle,” Elsa said. “I've hardly heard any music at all since our parents were lost.”  
  
“Do you always listen to music standing so stiff and still?”  
  
Elsa frowned. “What do you mean?”  
  
Grinning, Loki extended a hand to her. “Would you rather dance?” When Elsa looked down at the pale hand with its long, slender fingers, he added, “You cannot harm me, in case you forgot.”  
  
“No, I…I haven't forgotten,” Elsa said. “But I've already turned down several others, one of them an important political ally, and I'm sure he was offended. If I dance with you…people might talk.”  
  
“It is my experience that  _people_ do little else,” Loki replied.  
  
“I'm a dreadful dancer.”  
  
“Then we are fortunate this one is slow.” Without waiting for further argument, he reached for her hand and pulled her toward the other dancers.  
  
Elsa should have been used to being watched by now; she'd had a constant audience since leaving her room this morning. Even so, she was unsteady on her feet and felt nauseated when she caught the curious glances around her. The sensations did not change much when Loki pulled her closer to him and she placed a shaky hand on his shoulder. She felt her energy quell in his hands, and recalled the effect he had. It was one less thing to worry about, at least.  
  
“So, your grace, what do you think of being queen thus far?” Loki asked, still wearing a grin.  
  
Elsa wished he would talk about why he came, but felt awkward about bringing it up herself. “It's gone back and forth between terrifying and utterly dull,” she answered him.  
  
“And which is this?”  
  
“It's certainly not dull,” she said, to which he chuckled.  
  
As they moved across the floor, Elsa chanced a few looks around, but Anna was nowhere in sight. She would have thought, given the girl's reaction to the brothers, that Anna would be dancing or flirting with Thor. But the elder Odinson was exchanging boastful stories over wine with an elderly colonel, surrounded by a gaggle of wide-eyed, hopeful-looking women. Still, was there a need to worry about Anna right now? She had conducted herself well so far, and in this crowd, was unlikely to come to harm.  
  
The tune came to an end, and the dancers lightly applauded the band. Elsa moved toward the throne at one end of the room, intending to sit and watch the remainder of the festivities. But Loki caught her by the elbow before she could get more than three steps away.  
  
“And where might you be going, your grace?” he asked.  
  
“The dance is over,” Elsa said. “I'm going to sit down.”  
  
“And continue to decline more partners?”  
  
“I can't dance every dance with you,” she said.  
  
“You are the queen,” Loki said, “and it seems to me that a queen does just as she wishes.”  
  
“Very well, I  _wish_ to avoid war and trade embargoes by not offending my other guests and letting you monopolize my attentions.”  
  
“I do love when you talk politics,” Loki said, his voice almost a purr.  
  
“Really?”  
  
“Of course not—it is the dullest thing in the world.”  
  
“And yet you would seize the throne from your brother and take on such matters yourself?”  
  
“I thought I told you that was all in jest,” Loki said.  
  
“You did,” Elsa said. “I wonder if  _everything_ you said was in jest.”  
  
A shadow of bemusement passed across Loki's face and he opened his mouth to speak. Before his first word, however, Elsa heard Anna calling her name. She turned and saw her sister run into the ballroom from the hallway, holding a young man by the hand and pulling him along.  _Now what?_  she wondered.  
  
“Give us a moment, would you?” Elsa murmured to Loki.  
  
He nodded and faded into the crowd, as he and Thor had seemed to do earlier. As Anna came closer, Elsa tried to remember who the young man was. He  _must_  have been presented to her; he could not have entered the ball without going through the necessary rituals. She silently cursed herself for being so distracted before.  
  
“Queen Elsa!” Anna said eagerly, bobbing up and down in a quick curtsey. Her arm was hooked tightly around the man's elbow, in a way that suggested no intentions to release him. “This is Prince Hans of the Southern Isles.”  
  
 _Ah yes,_ Elsa thought. Her advisors had told her about the king there and his abundance of offspring.  _This Hans has to be among the younger_. Elsa wished the two of them would stop giggling and get on with what they were saying, though she had a feeling she would not like to hear it when they did.  
  
“We'd like to ask your blessing…of our marriage!” they finally managed to say between them.  
  
For the second time that day, Elsa felt like the floor was dropping out below her. The sensation was much less pleasant the second time. She couldn't find it in herself to be any more regal, or even coherent, than to stammer out, “Your…I'm sorry, what?”  
  
 _This has to be a joke_ , she thought.  _Maybe Anna and Loki planned this. That's why he left without an argument just now. Anna doesn't even know this boy—she can't be this stupid_.  
  
But Anna was not even looking at her now. She and Hans were babbling something about having soup at their wedding and inviting twelve brothers and which rooms they would take. Elsa watched the incoherent dialogue with increasing dread. It did not seem like a joke anymore.  
  
“Anna,  _wait_ ,” Elsa said, finally cutting through her sister's rapid words. “May I speak with you alone?”  
  
There was that chastised look again, only with more anger this time. “No,” Anna said. “Whatever you have to say, you can say to  _both_ of us.”  
  
“Fine,” Elsa said. “You can't marry a man you just met.”  
  
“You  _can_  if it's  _true love_ ,” Anna whined.  
  
“Anna,” Elsa sighed.  _You're still such a child_. She thought three years more would be enough, that Anna couldmarry, travel, or otherwise live her own life out of the palace. But the castle gates had been open for mere hours, and Anna already had made a hasty decision that could affect the rest of her life. How could Elsa have believed that her sister would be a fully mature, sensible adult at eighteen?  
  
 _I was_.  _But I had no choice_.  
  
“What do you know of true love?” Elsa asked.  
  
“More than  _you!_ ” Anna spat back. “All you know is how to shut people out!”  
  
Elsa could not immediately hide her shock at Anna's words—nor could she ignore the hurt on her little sister's face. How many times had Anna looked like that over the years, on the other side of the door, where Elsa never saw?  _She doesn't understand,_ Elsa told herself.  _She still doesn't know why_.  
  
Elsa's lips parted, and she almost spilled out the truth.  _Conceal,_ she reminded herself.  _Don't feel. Don't let them know_. Instead, she said, “You ask for my blessing, but my answer is no.” She could not bear the look on Anna's face and walked away, wondering if her answer really mattered to them.  
  
Evidently, it did.  
  
“Elsa, wait!” Anna cried out. She hurried after the queen and reached for her hand, but Elsa twisted away and the glove came off.  
  
“Give it back!” Elsa said, feeling the panic rise in her chest. Suddenly, she was eight years old again. She gripped her bare hand into a fist, willing it to stay warm and still.  _Loki_ , she thought.  _Where is he?_  He could neutralize it, avoid the danger…  
  
“Elsa,  _please_ , I can't live like this anymore!” Anna said, still holding her sister's glove in a vice grip.  
  
“Then  _leave_ ,” Elsa said.  
  
Anna stood as still as if Elsa had frozen her in place. She was crushed, and Elsa knew it. The young queen almost took back her words, but maybe it was for the best after all…  
  
When it seemed that Anna had nothing to say, Elsa turned away again. But it was not over.  
  
“What did I ever do to you?” Anna shouted after her. “Why do you shut me out? Why do you shut the world out?  _What are you so afraid of?_ ”  
  
Elsa reached the door, and her breaking point.  
  
“ENOUGH!"  
  
Without thinking, she swept out her arm in emphasis, but her emotions were running too high. A blast of ice burst from her arm, creating a spiky wall several feet high between her and the rest of the room.  
  
Elsa had nearly forgotten the other guests, but now, seeing their reactions, she remembered them all too well. The gentle roar of a hundred conversations was replaced by gasps and shrieks. Amidst the clamor, she heard a man exclaim, “Sorcery!”  
  
Anna and Elsa stared at each other over the deadly spikes of ice.  
  
“Elsa?” she said, her eyes enormous. Once again, Elsa saw a child, the lonely little girl who wanted answers. Well, now she had one.  
  
Elsa's gloved hand reached for the doorknob, and she made her escape. Instead of going up to her room, as she originally meant to do, she rushed for the palace's grand entrance and out onto the front steps. She had forgotten the crowd of villagers gathered in the courtyard, hoping to get a glimpse of their queen. Elsa was sure they had not expected the newly crowned monarch to rush into their midst like a frightened rabbit, but that is what she did.  
  
All she wanted was escape, but once outside, the people began to close in on her with more greetings and well-wishes. Just like in the ballroom, they turned to cries of shock and horror when Elsa backed up against a fountain and froze it with a touch. They began to step away from her, and some of them fled. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw guests collect in the front doorway, which she had left open. Among them, Anna was calling her name.  
  
“Just stay away!” she tried to tell them, but even holding up her hands was not the gesture of surrender she meant it to be. More frost and cold air burst forth, coating the columns and floor of the palace entrance with ice.  _Please, don't let me have hit anyone_.  
  
“ _Monster!_ ” the Duke of Weselton called her, pointing a finger as though no one knew whom he meant.  
  
Trapped and terrified, Elsa looked around at the faces in the crowd. How quickly they had changed from admiration and joy to hatred and fear!  _Loki…where's Loki?_ There was no sign of the Asgardian prince, or his brother. She saw only strangers. Men shielded their wives; women hid their children from her. And they were all around—there seemed no way out.  
  
“Monster!” she heard the duke shout again. Elsa took a deep breath and plunged ahead. She won her gamble; the crowd parted to let her through.  
  
Fleeing across the cobblestone streets, Elsa instinctively sought out the tiny door in the wall that she had always used in her excursions into the countryside. As she hurried down the slick stone steps, she heard shouts behind her. She looked down at her feet. Everywhere she stepped, the ground froze. The voices behind her grew louder, and she knew she had no time to run toward the hills. The fjord stretched out ahead of her, the opposite shore invisible in the night.  
  
Elsa touched the toe of her boot to the water's edge. Instantly, the surface froze into ice thick enough to skate on. It was her only chance. After one last look back at her pursuers, Elsa took a step, then another, and finally broke into a run, the stepping-stones of ice keeping her dry as she raced across the fjord and into the mountains.


	5. On the North Mountain

Elsa sighed and leaned on the cold balustrade of her balcony. The snow-capped mountains shimmered gold, pink, purple, and gray in the new light of dawn. At this height, in the thin air, the silence was so profound that she thought she heard the sun itself rising from behind the peaks. The view from her room at Arendelle had never come close to this.  
  
“This is what I was meant for,” Elsa said. Even that whisper sounded profane in such quiet.  
  
There were those who would call it loneliness—but it was only in Arendelle Castle, within four unchanging walls, shut away in fear of her own magic, that she had been lonely. Here, she was _alone_ , yes—but free. Free of that fear, free to stretch her powers, to release her energy, to see the wide, wild world. She was not born to wear a crown, or hold a scepter, or sit a throne. The North Mountain was her throne, and no emperor's could be grander.  
  
When the sunlight made her eyes ache, Elsa looked down over the treetops. She was so far above them, she might as well have had the power of flight as well as ice and snow.  
  
The young queen blinked. There was a dark spot moving down there, leaving a trail of broken snow, a blemish upon the pristine skin of the mountain's face. She frowned. Was there _already_ an intruder upon her sacred domain? Wanting a closer look, she went back inside, down one side of the grand staircase, and across the glittering, varicolored foyer.  
  
She paused, flexing her bare fingers, and took a deep breath. All she wanted was solitude on her own terms. Yet here she was, once again cowering behind a closed door, summoning up the courage for whatever lay on the other side. She reached for the handles, flung open the double doors, and stepped out onto the front stoop.  
  
“Loki?”  
  
He was standing at the foot of the curved steps. He looked clean and rested, as if he had flown, or appeared instantly, rather than hiked across mountains. His eyebrows flickered up and his eyes widened in surprise for the briefest moment before the now-familiar grin slowly spread across his face.  
  
“Is this Queen Elsa before me?” he asked. “The mountain air certainly does change things.”  
  
When Elsa remembered what he was looking at, she felt warmth creep into her freckled cheeks. Her glamorous blue dress, as sparkly as the walls of her ice palace, and the loose braid hanging over her bare shoulder, all seemed ridiculous now that she was no longer alone. She felt like a child who had been caught playing dress-up with her mother's clothes. She was about to shrink back through the doors, but stopped herself.This was _her_ place, her realm, and she had no reason to be embarrassed or to back down from anyone. Squaring her shoulders, Elsa lifted her chin slightly, putting on a facade of frigid calm as she watched the dark-haired prince climb toward her.  
  
“I didn't expect to see you here,” she said. When he reached her level, she forced herself to stand her ground. Somehow it was harder now than ever.  
  
“I did not expect to _find_ you here,” Loki said. He looked up, up, up at the crystal structure, its turrets and spires blinding in the dawn. “So this is the power you have been hiding all these years.”  
  
“Yes,” Elsa said, letting herself smile. “I didn't realized I could do it.”  
  
“And this…” Elsa held back a shiver as he reached out and lifted her braid, his knuckles brushing the skin of her shoulder. His thumb touched one of the little snowflake-shaped jewels scattered throughout her hair. “Is this is the woman you have been hiding?”  
  
“I suppose so,” Elsa said, her voice barely above a whisper.  
  
Loki smiled and drew back his hand, clasping both behind his back. “I like her,” he said.  
  
“Thank you,” she said. “What are you doing here?”  
  
“Considering recent events, I thought I would find a princess in need of rescue.” He looked over his shoulder at the icy bridge spanning the canyon, and toward the mountains beyond. He turned back to Elsa, the glint in his eyes rivaling the palace walls. “Instead, I meet an elegant queen who has freed herself. It seems she has no need for a gallant prince after all.”  
  
“She doesn't _now_ ,” Elsa said, annoyed. In her panic over disclosing her magic, she had sought him in the crowd. Everything might have been different if he had come to her aid _then_. But if he had, where would she be—back in the city, smoothing over the damage and still trying to hide?  
  
Loki blinked, apparently surprised by her response. “I mean…” she added, stumbling over her words. “What happened to you, at the ball?”  
  
“You wanted to speak to your sister, so I took the opportunity to explore your fine home. I heard screams and, well, my suspicion was confirmed when I returned to the ballroom. I saw the ice, and then your tracks across the water.”  
  
“And you came looking for me?” she asked.  
  
“After a bit of a row with Thor, yes. He thought it best to leave Midgardian matters to the Midgardians, as our father demanded before we came. I would have agreed—were it anyone else.” He smiled. It was not his usual teasing grin, but rarer—a warm, disarming beam that lit up his face.  
  
 _No_ , Elsa thought. _This is my place. My magic reigns, and I will be subject to no one's charms_.  
  
“Why did you come?” she asked him.  
  
“Did I not just say—”  
  
“I don't mean the North Mountain. I mean _here_ —Arendelle, Midgard, my coronation. _Why did you come?_ ”  
  
“Ah,” he said. “I thought it obvious enough not to require explanation.”  
  
“Indulge me,” she said.  
  
“I gave you an invitation. You asked to postpone it—until you were twenty-one, your sister eighteen, and the kingdom yours. I believe requirements have been fulfilled, and I am here to collect on a debt.”  
  
“You still want me to come to Asgard with you?” Elsa asked.  
  
There was that mischievous smirk again. “I do believe that was the plan, yes.”  
  
“Yes, I…I just wanted to hear you say it.”  
  
He bent down slightly, resting one hand on her hair again. He was not vastly taller than she, but enough to be intimidating. “What else would you like to hear me say?” he murmured. At her glare, he chuckled and straightened. “Very well—what do _you_ say, then?”  
  
“I don't know,” Elsa said. “Things are different.”  
  
“Indeed so.” He looked back up at the soaring edifice. “Well, I suppose you could always make another one.”  
  
It was Elsa's turn to grin. “Come inside,” she said, grabbing his hand. “I want you to see.”  
  
Loki did not object as Elsa led him through the tall doors into the entrance hall. When he looked up at the sweeping double staircase, the columns, and the cathedral ceiling—all structured with snowflake patterns in shades of silver and blue—she knew he was impressed.  
  
“Well done,” he said. “I would not have expected…”  
  
“You like it?” Elsa asked.  
  
“Rather cavernous, perhaps. A bit _empty_.”  
  
“It's a work in progress,” Elsa said. “How about this?” She stretched out a hand toward the center of the foyer. Up from the cold, slick floor grew a three-tier fountain, with frozen water that dripped as still as a painting.  
  
“Quite marvelous,” he said.  
  
As he was turning his head, trying to see everything at once, Elsa realized something. She looked down at her left hand, the one she had used to summon the fountain.  
  
“Loki?” she said, alarmed.  
  
“What is it?” he asked, sounding confused. Then he noticed the same thing. Elsa was holding his left hand with her right—and yet she had still done magic. She was staring at her free hand, held up before her face as if she had never seen it before.  
  
“Not even you can restrain it now,” Elsa said. She began to laugh, the unfamiliar sound bouncing off the walls and ceiling. The echoes made a strange music in the grand chamber. “I _am_ free!”  
  
He was giving her that charming smile again; Elsa hoped he really meant it this time.  
  
“That reminds me,” he said. She looked at him curiously as he reached inside what must have been a pocket somewhere amidst the leather, metal, and cloth he wore. Elsa almost could not believe it when he pulled out a pair of long, silk gloves. They looked exactly like the ones she had worn at her coronation, but…  
  
“They can't be,” she said. “Where did you get them?”  
  
“I persuaded your sister to give up the one you left with her. As it happens, the second was useful in directing me toward your…new abode. When I saw it tangled in a branch, I knew I must have been on the right track.” When Elsa hesitated to take them from him, he added, still smiling, “You must take better care of your things, your highness. I cannot _always_ be fetching your gloves for you.”  
  
Elsa picked them up in one hand, noticing loose threads where the glove had snagged on the tree and spots dampened by snow.  
  
“I don't need these anymore,” she said. She looked back up at him and took his hand again, gripping it a little tighter than before. “Come on!”  
  
She pulled him along behind her, across the smooth floor and up the grand staircase, past walls of crystal-clear ice, through a labyrinth of rooms. Not even Elsa knew all of the palace's layout; she had not yet had time to explore it for herself. Together they wandered the halls, peeked through doorways, and climbed more stairs, stopping to examine the details of a column or window, occasionally getting turned around and losing each other.  
  
Finally they reached the highest tower, and the balcony where Elsa stood before Loki arrived. The normally flippant prince seemed dumbstruck by the view. Elsa hung back, watching from the doorway with pride as he slowly approached the ledge.  
  
“This _is_ a beautiful country,” he finally said. Elsa stepped out to join him at the balustrade. “Asgard is preferable, but…” He looked down at her and grinned. “There is some beauty that is unique to this place.”  
  
“Tell me about Asgard,” she said quietly.  
  
“Why should I?” he asked. “You could come see for yourself.”  
  
She shook her head. “I want you to tell me first.”  
  
Loki was silent for a few minutes, first examining Elsa's face, and then turning his attention back to the mountains. She almost wondered if he would ever speak again. Finally, he opened his mouth, his words emerging with a tone she had not heard him use before.  
  
He talked about a world full of sunshine, with changing seasons that were never too harsh. He told her of mountains and rolling hills and shady valleys, of vineyards and orchards and thick forests, of quiet brooks and wide rivers and thundering waterfalls. He talked about the many golden spires of Odin's palace, the architecture and artwork within, the library that was often his haven. He spoke of the great, hoofed beasts in the palace stables, and the treasures hidden in Odin's weapons vault, brought back as prizes of war. He described thrilling hunts for wild boar and deadly serpents, and the bloodless but mighty battles fought for practice on the Warrior's Field. Finally, he told her about the rainbow bridge, the Bifrost, and the giant in golden armor who served as gatekeeper to the realm.  
  
As he concluded his tale, he grinned. He had lost himself in the storytelling, but now saw how Elsa had listened, wide-eyed and breathless.  
  
“Does such a place _really_ exist?” Elsa asked. “Why would you ever leave it?”  
  
He reached out to caress a stray lock of her hair. “Come and see it,” he said.  
  
“I don't know, Loki,” she said again. “You wanted to teach me to control my magic. But look at this place—the work is done. I'm finally who I'm supposed to be. Your world sounds heavenly, but this is _my_ world, and I've only just begun to live in it.”  
  
“What do you have here that Asgard could not offer you?” he asked.  
  
“Maybe nothing,” she admitted. “But I should find out for myself.”  
  
Loki turned away from her again, clearly agitated as he leaned on the railing. “Be _gracious_ , she told me,” he grumbled. “This is what I get for my patience.”  
  
“All my life, I've done everything I was told to do,” Elsa said. “I didn't question the trolls that took Anna's memories. I didn't question my parents when they shut us away. I didn't question the advisors who ruled in my stead and then made me queen. If I go with you, I want to make sure it's what _I want_ to do, not just because you asked me. It probably is—but I have to be sure.”  
  
Loki turned so that he was facing her, leaning sideways on the balcony. “Tell me, your highness, is there _anything_ you are _sure_ about?”  
  
She watched his face, wondering if he was seriously asking, or just teasing her again. She was sure of her magic now, she knew that much. And there was always Anna. Elsa knew she loved her sister, just as she knew they were better off apart. She certainly was unsure about the man who stood in front of her, and Elsa wondered if she ever would be. As for her feelings about _him_ …  
  
Loki seemed to understand where her thoughts had wandered. His expression softened as he came closer. Once again, Elsa found that she had to force herself to stand her ground. He brought his hands to her face, the chill of his fingers a stark contrast to her warm skin. She did not shy away this time, though she might have had reason to.  
  
“Apologies,” he said. “I did not think to pack any gloves of my own.”  
  
Smiling, Elsa placed a hand over one of his. She rested her other on his shoulder, where the thick-woven cape met the leather and armor of his uniform.  
  
“The cold never bothered me anyway,” she murmured.  
  
He bowed his head toward hers and kissed her. It was as sweet as Elsa remembered, and this time she had nowhere to go and nothing to hide. When Loki began to draw away, she wrapped both arms around his neck and pulled him back, feeling him smile against her lips. Elsa did not know how long they stayed like that, and she hardly cared.  
  
When they paused for breath, a question came to her mind.

“Did you really want to rescue me?” Elsa asked.

There was a trace of sadness around his eyes. “I would have rescued you three years ago.”


	6. Abandonment

Elsa and Loki finally left the palace for a tour of the North Mountain. The scenery was almost as new to her as to him. It was the first time she had been so far from home since the night the trolls erased Anna's memories. As they circled outward from the palace, Elsa almost wished that she had magicked herself some more practical clothes; the cold didn't bother her, but the snow almost made her stumble. Once they reached the tree line, she ducked under the shadows of an evergreen, tugging on Loki's arm.  
  
“Are you hiding from someone, your highness?” he asked.  
  
“The snow is deep,” she said. “And it hurts my eyes in the sun.”  
  
“Well, her grace mustn't strain those pretty eyes of hers,” Loki said, leaning beside her on the tree trunk. He reached over and covered Elsa's eyes with one hand. “Is that better?”  
  
“A little,” Elsa said, trying and failing not to smile.  
  
Keeping one hand over her eyes, Loki leaned forward and kissed her. “And now?”  
  
“Much better,” she said.  
  
Elsa could not see the burst of light that made the snow even more blinding, but she heard the crash of thunder that accompanied it, and gasped. Loki took his hand away and turned toward the sound, but not before she caught the roll of his eyes and the disgusted twist of his mouth.  
  
“What  _was_ that?” she asked, stepping away from the tree. Its boughs stirred as though from a gust of wind, but she had not felt it while standing beneath them.  
  
“A most ill-favored interruption,” Loki grumbled.  
  
They retraced their path back up the mountain and found the source of the noise. Loki's brother Thor stood at the foot of the staircase to the palace, brandishing an enormous war-hammer, his red cape swirling around him. Compared to the glare of the sun on his armor, even the snow seemed dull. Elsa blinked and squinted as she looked at him.  
  
“Brother, it is time we took our leave of this place!” Thor called out.  
  
“You did not need to wait for me,” Loki said. “I am capable of traveling without you and your war-bride, as you are well aware.”  
  
“We departed Asgard together, and so we must return,” Thor replied. “If I leave you here, Father will ask questions. We were not to become involved in matters of this realm, he said. We have done more than enough in paying our respects to her majesty.” He paused to incline his head toward Elsa. “Heimdall may have seen what happened, and in any case, it is time.”  
  
Feeling a surge of dread, Elsa reached for Loki's hand. “Do you  _have_ to go?” she whispered to him.  
  
He looked at her, again his shrewd eyes sweeping over her face. “I do,” he said. “And so do you.”  
  
“Loki,” she said. “I…”  
  
“Brother,  _we must go_ ,” Thor bellowed, even though the distance between them did not require the volume. “The queen's sister seeks her, and I am weary of this realm and its capricious winters. If I had wanted a cold and desolate holiday, we could have snuck off to Jotunheim.”  
  
 _Winters? Sister?_ Elsa wondered. “Anna is looking for me?” she asked.  
  
“She fled the kingdom on horseback for that purpose,” Thor said. “Not long after you, and just after my brother began his own search. It appears your sister has no magic?”  
  
“No, she was born…normal,” Elsa said.  
  
“Then she will have a difficult time of it, finding you,” Thor said.  
  
“I daresay you could have given her some help,” Elsa said, not without a touch of sullenness.  
  
“It would have been unbefitting,” Thor said. “Our father said—”  
  
“Yes, yes,  _Father said_ ,” Loki interrupted. “We were not to interfere with the affairs of this realm.” He turned back to Elsa with an expectant look. “But he said nothing against bringing visitors to  _our_ realm,” he added quietly.  
  
“If Anna is looking for me…” Elsa said.  
  
“She will try to take you back  _there_ ,” Loki said. He turned his whole body to face her, grasping her hands. “I saw the fear in their faces, Elsa, and I heard what they called you. This land is undeserving of you, but you know what I could give you. Come with me now, while there's still a chance.”  
  
“But…” She wanted and did not want to go. Her mouth did not know the words to speak.  
  
“Ah,” Loki said, clearly offended by her hesitation. “You say you will only do as  _you_ like…and you mislike my invitation.”  
  
“It's not that,” Elsa said. “I  _want_  to come with you. But it's Anna—now that I know she's looking for me, I have to see what she wants.”  
  
Her expression was pleading as she looked up at him. His teeth seemed to be clenched behind his closed lips, and his eyes darkened for a moment, his expression hardening. A second later, it softened, and the change almost broke her heart. When he spoke again, his voice rasped.  
  
“Elsa,” he said. “ _Please_.”  
  
Elsa did not dare speak. She did not trust her voice or her tongue to say the words she knew she must. She could only shake her head. The dark, hardened look returned to Loki's face, and he let go of her hands as though casting her away from him.  
  
“So be it,” he said. “Stay in your lofty palace,  _your highness_ , if you insist on being alone for the rest of your days.”  
  
“ _Alone_ is all I've ever had,” Elsa said. “Alone protects me. Alone protected my sister for 18 years. It protects  _everyone_ from me.”  
  
“And how did she repay that protection? By exposing you to hatred and fear and ignorance? By letting you flee?”  
  
“It's not her fault! She never knew what would happen—she couldn't have!”  
  
With one more look of contempt, Loki turned and stalked away, toward his brother, fists clenched, his green cloak dragging in the snow.  
  
“Loki, wait,” Elsa said, taking a step toward him.  
  
“ _No!_ ” he snapped. “A  _queen_  must abide by her royal decrees, after all. Stay there”—he pointed at the tower of ice—“if you insist. It suits you, after all. Beautiful…cold…and  _empty_.”  
  
Elsa's lips parted in shock, as much as if he had slapped her across the face. Loki resumed his march, but by then even Thor looked uncertain. He seemed almost pitying as his younger brother came toward him, refusing to look back at her.  
  
Elsa stayed where she was. It took all her strength and willpower to keep from releasing the tears that burned her throat. After what he had said, she could not let him see her weep. Yet she could not look away. As the brothers Odinson stood side-by-side, Elsa wondered what would happen if she ran forward, if she threw herself at Loki, begged them to let her come with them after all. Her knee twitched, as though preparing for that very action, but still Elsa kept her position.  
  
Then Thor shouted something to the heavens, and Elsa gasped again as the two Asgardians were engulfed in a shaft of rainbow-colored light. When the light was gone, so were they.  
  
Disoriented by what had just happened, Elsa stayed where she was for a long time. Still and silent, she stared at the spot where Loki and Thor last stood. The light had left a strange pattern in the snow. The wind stirred her hair and the cape of her dress, but she hardly noticed. She did not know how many minutes—or if they had stretched into hours—passed by before she lifted her feet and made her way back to the palace.  
  
 _Conceal_ … _don't feel_ …  
  
Better to be numb than to regret. She  _could not_  regret. She had made her choice, and she had to live with it. She slowly climbed the stairs that spanned the canyon and walked through the double doorway into the entry hall. Had Loki really meant what he said?  _Cold and empty_. It was true enough, she supposed. It had to be.  
  
Elsa's eye caught the fountain in the middle of the room, made of the same glass-smooth, colored ice as the rest of the palace. Its frozen waterfalls glittered so that they almost seemed to flow. As she crossed the room, she paused to run a hand across the basin. She had made this herself, like everything else in this place, but this piece was special. She had been holding Loki's hand at the time. Even he, with all his mysterious and otherworldly magic, could no longer suppress her. She had been so proud…  
  
Well, she would be proud of it again. Elsa took a deep breath. Even that seemed loud in the cavernous chamber. This was her home now, and still the finest anywhere, a testament to her powers. She had made her decision, and she could not let doubts creep in—especially not when it was too late to change anything. It would be all right; she was where she belonged.  
  
What would Anna think if she saw it? Elsa felt a surge of delight at the idea of showing off to her sister, remembering how much Anna had loved her tricks in the past. The excitement was quickly followed by apprehension. Was she really coming? Elsa had not thought that Anna would try to find her. She might have expected some kind of a search party—one full of villagers carrying torches and pitchforks, like in the old days. For Anna to come after her was something of a surprise. But then, after all these years of near-silence, she supposed she could not expect to know Anna very well at all.  
  
Elsa could not guess where to begin looking for her sister, and so she waited, hoping that Anna would find her. By the time the sun set, she was worried. She hoped that she had not gotten lost in the forest.  
  
The young queen toured her palace all over again, now in solitude. She put new details in the doorways and added a few more windows. She wanted to explore more of the mountainside, but she dared not risk her sister finding the palace empty. Over and over she climbed to the highest tower, but from the balcony she saw no signs of life except eagles and the occasional moose. Once, she heard wolves howling and shuddered, hoping that Anna would not meet them when they were hungry.  
  
Elsa also did her best not to think of Loki. She'd had plenty of practice in the past few years, but now that he had been here again, it was harder. Yet it was more important than ever. Elsa had seen the hurt in his eyes and heard his bitter tone. She had no illusions about his ever coming back. So she stood at her balcony, looking over her mountainous empire, and tried to content herself with mere memories of his wicked smile, the glitter in his eyes, the way he kissed her.  
  
What if she had gone? She could be in Asgard at this moment. She could have met his mother, his father, seen the wild forests and rolling hills and golden city that he spoke of. She  _did_ want to see them. But it was too late.  
  
At long last, she had something else to distract her. From well within her palace, she heard several echoing thuds, then a long creak of doors opening. If it was not her sister, it was Loki returned, and Elsa would gladly welcome either.  
  
As she approached the entry hall, she heard a girl's voice. Emerging from behind a crystal wall at the top of the grand staircase, she saw her sister crossing the floor.  
  
“Anna,” Elsa said. She did not have to call loudly—the words echoed down to her. Standing at the bottom of the stairs, Anna stared up in astonishment.  
  
“Elsa?” Anna gasped and stammered. “You look different—a good different! And this place is amazing.”  
  
“Thank you,” Elsa said. She was not surprised that Anna was impressed, of course, but it pleased her all the same. “I never knew what I was capable of.”  
  
“I'm so sorry about what happened.” Anna set her foot on the next step up, her mittened hands grabbing the bannister for support. Elsa's instincts kicked in and she began to draw back.  
  
“You don't have to apologize,” she said, hoping to discourage Anna from coming closer. What if she tried to touch her? “But you should go. It's a long way back to Arendelle—where you belong.”  
  
“And you!” Anna said.  
  
“No, Anna, I belong  _here_ ,” Elsa said. “Where I can be who I am.”  _Beautiful, cold, and empty_. “I won't hurt anyone here.”  
  
 _But do I have enough control_ not  _to hurt anyone now?_ Perhaps it still was not worth the risk—not when her powers were beyond Loki's ability to suppress them.  
  
“Elsa, come back,” Anna said. “We were so close. Now that I know…I remember…we can be like that again.”  
  
Being close…Elsa knew what that meant. Unbidden memories flooded her mind of that night, thirteen years ago. The jet of ice—the laughter that turned to silence, then to screams—the frantic race to the troll's valley. No matter what her powers were now, she could not let that happen again.  
  
“No,” Elsa found herself saying. Anna protested, but she began to back away. “I'm just trying to protect you!”  
  
“But I'm not afraid!” Anna called. Elsa hurried away, up the stairs to the highest tower, but Anna's voice did not sound any further away. She looked back, and saw that her sister followed.  _I thought I was the stubborn one_ , Elsa said to herself.  
  
“Please don't shut me out  _again_ ,” Anna said. “You don't have to keep your distance anymore!” No matter how far Elsa ran, or how high she climbed, Anna was still behind, closing in on her. “For the first time in forever, I finally understand…”  
  
Elsa was in the tower room now. She headed toward the balcony, but Anna would only keep coming toward her.  
  
“You don't have to live in fear,” Anna was saying. “For the first time in forever, I will be right here!”  
  
 _You were always right here_ , Elsa thought.  _I wasn't—I couldn't be. I didn't want you to hate me, but I wouldn't blame you if you had,_  she wanted to say.  _You never knew.  
  
_ Out loud, she said, “Anna, please, go back home. Your life awaits. Go enjoy the sun, and open up the gates.”  _Just don't marry that boy. Not yet_ … _please_ … “I know you mean well, but leave me be.” She turned away again and strode out to the balcony. Maybe if Anna saw the view, she would understand. She would see how Elsa belonged here, and couldn't go back. “Yes, I'm alone—but I'm alone and free!”  
  
Anna did follow her, but she never took her eyes off her sister. The sight of the dawn over the peaks did not sway her. Elsa wondered how else to convince her.  
  
“Just stay away,” she said, backing away. “You'll be safe from me.”  
  
“Actually,” Anna said timidly, “we're not.”  
  
“Not what?” Elsa turned to face her. “What do you  _mean_ , you're not?”  
  
“I get the feeling you don't know...”  
  
It was like she was asking Elsa to bless her engagement all over again. Elsa wished Anna would just get on with it and say what she had to say. “ _What do I not know?_ ”  
  
“Arendelle's in deep…snow.” Anna said. She cringed, as though fearful of Elsa's wrath. Well she might be, after what happened at the castle.  
  
There was that feeling again—like a hole had opened up beneath her feet. Elsa had meant to be done with that feeling forever. She hung in midair, and time did the same.  
  
“What?” she could only gasp. Maybe she had misheard her.  
  
“You kind of set off an eternal winter everywhere,” Anna said.  
  
“ _Everywhere?_ ” Elsa repeated.  
  
“Well, I don't know if it's  _everywhere_ ,” Anna said. “In Arendelle, at least. The ships are frozen in the fjord, and there was snow coming down. I had to stop and buy boots and everything. It's okay, it's not really eternal either, you can just unfreeze it!”  
  
 _Just unfreeze it?_  “No, I can't,” Elsa said. “I don't know how!” She may not have known what she was capable of, but she knew what she was  _not_ capable of. Deliberately controlling the seasons was one thing, for a start.  
  
“Sure, you can—I  _know_ you can!” Anna said. She looked so confident, so trusting.  _Why?_  What had Elsa done to make Anna believe in her like this?  
  
 _You foolish child! Wanting something hard enough doesn't get it for you. Wishing doesn't make it true. I should be proof enough of that.  
  
_ Winter—everywhere? How had this happened? How had she  _let_ it happen? Elsa felt her heart beating faster, her breath coming in pants as panic rose up within her. What was she going to do?  _If Loki were here_ … But even he could not stop her now. If the fjords were frozen, then everyone was trapped in Arendelle. Did they think she had schemed this? It didn't matter what they thought, what mattered was that it happened, and there was nothing to set it right.  
  
“For the first time in forever, you don't have to be afraid!” Anna said.  
  
 _I've always been afraid,_ Elsa thought. She had lied when she told Loki she had always been alone—she had never been alone. Fear was there. Every memory, every breath, every second of her life, fear was there. She would never be without it, no matter what she wanted, no matter what was promised her.  
  
“I'm such a fool,” Elsa groaned, unaware of whether she spoke the words out loud. Anna was talking—did she even hear her? “I can't be free!”  _I told Loki I could control it. I thought I didn't need his help anymore_. “No escape from the storm inside of me…”  
  
“We can work this out together!” Anna said.  
  
“I can't control the  _curse_ ,” Elsa said. “Born, or cursed?” the elder troll had asked of her powers.  _Why can't it be both?  
  
_ “We'll reverse the storm you've made,” Anna said.  
  
“Anna,  _please!_ ” Elsa said. “You'll only make it worse!”  
  
“Don't panic, we'll make the sun shine bright!”  
  
“There's so much fear.” Elsa gasped. She could feel herself losing control.  _My gloves,_ she thought.  _Where did I leave my gloves?_ They might help…but it was too late to find them. Fear had done its work. She had to get Anna out, away from her, back to safety. “You're not safe here!”  
  
“We can face this thing together,” Anna said.  
  
 _Does she think more words will help? It wasn't_ words  _that caused this_.  
  
“Everything will be all right!”  
  
“ _I can't!_ ” Elsa threw her head back as she screamed. She felt the cold power erupt from her skin, and heard a gasp. Was it her own? She looked around and saw Anna on her knees, clutching her chest.  
  
 _No, no, no, no, please._ Helpless, she watched Anna stagger to her feet. She heard a man's voice, and for the briefest moment, she knew what hope felt like. But the voice had called Anna's name, and the man who rushed into the chamber was a stranger to Elsa. He slid across the icy floor.  
  
“Are you all right?” he asked Anna, without so much as a glance in Elsa's direction.  
  
“I'm  _fine_ ,” Anna said, glaring at her sister as she let the man help her to her feet.  
  
“Who's  _this?_ ” Elsa asked. He was not Prince Hans, but some commoner—and not a man, but a boy no older than she. Had Anna changed her mind already? “No, it doesn't matter, you have to go.”  
  
“No, we can figure this out together!” Anna said.  
  
“ _How?_ ” Elsa asked.  _Is she really this stupid?_ “What power do  _you_ have to stop this winter? To stop  _me?_ ”  _Even Loki couldn't do it.  
  
_ Then a horrible thought came to her mind.  _Had he known?_  Thor had said something about the land's capricious winters. She thought he meant the cold, snowy mountains, but he must have meant what she left behind in Arendelle. Loki had followed her shortly before Anna. He must have seen what was happening.  _Why didn't he tell me?  
  
_ “I'm not leaving without you!” Anna said.  
  
“Yes, you are!” Elsa said.  
  
She did not know exactly what would happen, but something inside her compelled her to cast her magic. She struck the floor with jets of ice, and a pale creature emerged, growing rapidly. Soon a massive snowman—a snow  _giant_ —stood between the sisters. Elsa gaped, wide-eyed, at what she had just made. This was no Olaf—it was at least fifteen feet tall, with snow-legs bigger than tree trunks and claws of ice. It picked up Anna and her companions and carried them outside the palace. Elsa watched from the balcony, cringing as the thing threw them into the snow. She knew it would not hurt them. She created it only to frighten them away, and make sure they did not return. Still, she could not bear to watch as the monster pursued them into the trees.  
  
 _The real monster is still here,_ she thought.  _Beautiful, cold, and empty_.  
  
“I'm sorry, Anna,” she whispered into the air.  _I did it for you. Everything I've done has been for you.  
  
_ _Why, Loki? Why didn't you tell me about the winter?_ Elsa stared into the sky, above where Loki and Thor had vanished, as though she could find some sign of him if she looked up long enough. If she remembered the words that Thor had called out to summon the rainbow that carried them away, she would shout herself hoarse.  
  
 _Can you see me now? I was wrong about my magic—I still can't control it. It's too much for me. Come back. Come back and help me find a way out of this_.  _I'll do anything, I'll go anywhere you want me to, if you could fix this_.  
  
She had no way of knowing if he had the means to bring summer back to Arendelle, but his power was greater than hers—wasn't it? His mother's was still greater, he said. Perhaps she could help. But if he could see her now, he could not hear her pleas, even if she spoke them aloud. And if he did, he was probably laughing to himself—laughing at the foolish girl from a realm he disdained, the snow-queen, cursed from birth with power she could not bear.  
  
The sky gave her no answer, but she heard the snow-monster roar in the distance. She turned away, wrapping her arms around herself. Sinking down to her knees upon the floor of ice, she succumbed to the tears she had held back for so long.  
  
For the first time in her life, Elsa felt  _cold_.


	7. A Debt Repaid

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I didn't use archive warnings for the whole work, but there's a bit of violence in the last scene of this chapter. Not quite Game of Thrones or Tarantino levels, but just so you're warned.

Consciousness seeped into Elsa's mind—and with it, pain. A dull ache coated her whole body like a thin blanket, but the pain in her head was like the slice of a burning dagger. It reminded her of the blade Loki gave her at her coronation.  
  
Eyes closed, Elsa held her breath and kept still. When the throbbing in her head subsided, she opened her eyes—and saw nothing. Terror gripped her heart until her eyes adjusted and she saw the details of a stone wall. She was in a small, cold, damp room. The surface beneath her back was flat stone, not ice.  
  
The slightest move sent white-hot thrusts into her skull. How had she come here? It was hardly less painful to simply lie there and think, but she had to remember.  
  
It began to come back to her. She had been at the palace…there was the mob…no, soldiers, and those just a few…but enough. There were swords and arrows…and her ice…her snow-monster…men shouting…the boy, the prince…Anna's prince…what was his name? The roof had come crashing down on her…

  
Elsa moved to rub her head, but her hand was weighed down. She struggled to focus her vision in the dim light. Her hands—had someone cut them off? No, she could feel her fingers, fighting against whatever contraption enclosed them, like a pair of iron gloves she could hardly lift. Who had done this? Who would have the gall to chain up their queen? The soldiers—strangers from overseas?  
  
 _Hans!  
  
_ “ _Queen Elsa! Don't be the monster they fear you are!”  
  
_ She managed to sit up, now fully aware of her circumstances. She was imprisoned in a filthy cell, the shackles on her hands chained to the wall. Behind her, a tall, narrow, dirty window let in a muted light.  
  
Ignoring the pain, Elsa struggled to her feet and twisted against the chains to peer through the glass. She hoped she was dreaming, but the ache in her body and the cold weight of the iron was too real. She saw the fjords at Arendelle, buried beneath a pile of unseasonable snow— _her_ snow. All the ships that had arrived for her coronation were still here, frozen at their moorings.  
  
“What have I done?” she whispered to herself.  
  
She heard footsteps in the corridor outside and the clatter of a key in the lock. The cell door swung open. Prince Hans himself peered around the door and then stepped into the room. Elsa tried to conceal her disappointment that he was alone.  
  
 _Where is Anna?_  she wondered. “Why did you bring me here?” she asked. “How  _dare_ you—”  
  
“I couldn't just let them kill you,” the prince said.  
  
 _Maybe you should have,_ she caught herself thinking.  _Maybe that would have been better for everyone_. Out loud, though, she said, “You don't realize what you've done! I'm a  _danger_  to Arendelle.” When he seemed unmoved, Elsa tried to summon her queenly voice again. “ _Get Anna!_ ”  
  
“Anna has not returned,” he said. “For all we know, she was lost in the forest.”  
  
 _No,_  Elsa thought,  _that can't be_. It would have been her fault if it were true.  _If I had just done as Anna asked, and come back with her willingly_ …But she had chased Anna and her friends away.  
  
 _Like I chased Loki away_.  
  
Elsa pushed away thoughts of the Asgardian prince, only to feel another chill of horror when she remembered the blond stranger who had come with Anna. Why had Anna brought him to Elsa's palace, of all people? At the time, Elsa hadn't wanted—or cared—to know who he was.  _What a fool!_  What if he was the reason Anna had not come back? What if he had done something to her?  
  
 _I will kill him,_ she thought.  _If he's hurt her_ …  
  
“If you could just reverse this spell,” Hans was saying, “and stop this winter, bring back summer…”  
  
“I  _can't_ ,” Elsa said.  _How long until someone believes me?_  “If I could, I would have done it already! You have to let me go.”  
  
Hans looked at her for a long time before saying, “I will do what I can.”  
  
When he turned his back on Elsa and left the room, she knew that neither one of them really believed the other. Terror clenched her heart in a grip tighter than the shackles around her hands. Anna was gone—missing—and she was trapped here. Loki was unreachable. Winter had come too soon, thanks to her, and now no one believed that she was powerless to stop it.  
  
 _I never did think I would be the best queen,_ Elsa thought. Her wildest nightmares, however, had never imagined such a disaster.  
  
So caught up in her own fearful thoughts, Elsa had not immediately noticed what was happening to her hands. She looked down and saw that the fetters were growing colder and frosting over. She held her breath and tried to concentrate, focusing more energy than she had used even to build her palace. The metal turned almost colder than even she could stand. Finally, the weakened shackles burst apart, freeing her and sending bursts of ice everywhere. One jet of frost ricocheted off another piece of ice and broke the window.  
  
Elsa flexed her fingers, stiff from their imprisonment, and then blasted more frost through the window and its surrounding wall. Carefully she picked her way across the shards of ice, stone, and glass and climbed through the hole. Outside, dark clouds swirled above her, and the snow was falling thickly. She could feel the wind grow steadily stronger—a result of her own stormy emotions.  
  
 _I still can't control it,_ she thought again.  _I admit it. Happy now, Loki?  
  
_ “She's escaped!” someone behind her shouted. Elsa gasped. There were men at the cell door.  
  
“Get her!” Was that Hans? “She is under arrest for treason!”  
  
 _Treason.  
  
_ With a few flicks of her wrist, Elsa summoned a snowy staircase. The one was not as decorative as the one at her palace, but it would serve. She slid more than ran down the steps until she reached solid ground—or rather, the foot-deep snow blanketing the solid ground. She sent a blast over her shoulder that demolished the staircase behind her. Without looking back or trying to discern the voices still shouting above, she rushed forward into the flurry, determined to find whatever remained of her sister.  
  
Elsa began to cross the icy fjord, trying to stay in a straight line as she moved toward the mountains. There was a ship to her right. But the snow came even faster, driven almost horizontal in the wind. The air felt like a solid wall that Elsa could not push through. In mere minutes, she could see neither the mountains beyond her nor the ship that had been only a few feet away, and she lost her bearings.  
  
“ _Anna!_ ” she called out hopelessly, the gale snatching away her words like a hawk's talons.  
  
There was nothing to do but keep moving forward. But as Elsa struggled against the storm she had created, she seemed to be no closer to the opposite shore. Not that she could have seen it, but she lost track of how long she had walked, apparently going nowhere.  
  
 _What have I done?_ Elsa asked herself, over and over.  _What have I done? Can it get worse? Will I freeze the whole world? Could anyone survive this—could I?  
  
_ In the fairy tales she and Anna read as children, the death of the wicked witch usually broke the spell. Was that what it took? Could Elsa make that sacrifice, to save her sister, her city, and everyone else?  
  
 _I never meant to be wicked,_ she thought.  _I shouldn't have to die for this._ _But do I have a choice now?  
  
_ “Elsa!” a man called out, his voice barely audible over the shrieking wind. “You can't run from this!”  
  
She knew it was not Loki, as much as she wished it to be. She looked over her shoulder and saw Hans' auburn hair and black cloak through the snow.  
  
“Just take care of my sister!” Elsa said.  _If she turns up alive_.  
  
“Anna returned from the mountains weak and cold,” Hans said. Joy rose up within her at hearing that Anna was alive, but something in the prince's response kept her in check. “She said that you froze her heart,” he added.  
  
“No,” Elsa whispered.  _She said she was fine!  
  
_ “It was too late,” Hans said.  
  
 _Was? No_ … _no, no, no_ …  
  
“Her skin was ice, and her hair turned white.”  
  
Elsa did not want to believe what she was hearing, but why would he lie? Staring at Hans, Elsa thought of the snow-white streak in Anna's hair.  _I did that to her,_ Elsa thought.  _I did all of this_.  
  
Finally, Hans spoke the fatal words. “Your sister is dead because of you!”  
  
It was a sentence Elsa had been dreading for hours—in truth, for the last thirteen years. It was as though the ice beneath her feet had broken, plunging her into the icy waters, though she really stood still and silent. The freezing wind, blowing snow, and dark ceiling of clouds faded from her mind; nothing mattered anymore. Elsa turned away from Hans, hardly realizing what she was doing.  
  
“No,” she whispered again. After a few staggering steps, Elsa collapsed onto the ice. The contact made a thunderous sound, and the wind came to a halt. The blizzard yielded, and even the snowflakes stood still in the air, but Elsa could not care.  
  
 _Why Anna? Why my little sister? Everything I've done to protect her was all in vain. I_ am  _the wicked witch_.  _Of course I have to die to break the spell—and it's no less than I deserve. Anna shouldn't have been the one to die. I tried so hard, but it was not enough.  
  
_ _I'm so sorry, Anna_ …  
  
Elsa did not know how long she lay sobbing on the ice. Out of nowhere came a girl's voice.  
  
“No!” she shouted. It sounded like Anna.  
  
Then there was a great cracking sound, and a gust of wind. Elsa looked up and saw the figure of her sister standing above her. Scattered on the ground, not far away, were shards of a broken sword. A little further away, Hans was sprawled out on the ice.  
  
“Anna!” Elsa shrieked, climbing back to her feet.  _Where did she come from? Hans_ did  _lie! Was Anna alive this whole time? Did he have her locked up, too?  
  
_ Even if he had been lying then, what he said was true now. Anna was frozen solid, still as an ice sculpture, eyes wide and arm outstretched. She looked as though she had been trying to catch—or block—something. Elsa's tears began anew as she looked at her sister's dear features, now cold and unmoving when once they had been warm and lively.  
  
Elsa threw herself at the statue, embracing her as she had been so afraid of doing when Anna was alive.  _She was protecting me_ , Elsa realized through her sobs.  _She succeeded where I had failed. You shouldn't have done it, Anna. I'm not worth it. You should have let me die_.  
  
Losing her sister for the second time in mere minutes, Elsa succumbed to her grief and once more lost track of time. She clung to Anna's frozen corpse, making every silent wish she could think of. Gradually, she grew aware of the ice softening beneath her arms. She ignored it until she felt  _movement_. She looked up, and saw Anna's eyes looking back at her—blue, clear, and  _alive_.  
  
“Anna?” she asked, her heart leaping within her chest even as her mind could not immediately believe it. Her sister responded with a smile, and Elsa pulled her into another hug, warm and tight. “You sacrificed yourself for me,” she said, her voice clogged with tears.  
  
“I love you,” Anna said.  
  
 _Still?_ Elsa marveled.  _Why?_ "I love you, too," she said.  
  
“An act of true love will thaw a frozen heart!” came a voice by her feet.  
  
Elsa looked down and saw the little snowman, Olaf. “Love will thaw?” she repeated. “ _Love!_ ”  
  
It was as though her own heart were warming. The magic surged within her, and she suddenly knew what she could do. Elsa stretched out her arms, sending her energy in a different direction. The wind stirred again, bringing a balmy breeze this time. The snowflakes drifted upward, taking with them their fallen brethren. The clouds above separated like a curtain, revealing the sun upon his blue stage. The icy fjord cracked and melted, and Elsa felt a rumble beneath their feet. She did not know that they had been standing on the deck of a sunken ship until it rose from its watery tomb, lifting them skyward.  
  
“I knew you could do it!” Anna said, just before the sisters embraced again.

 

* * *

  
Prince Hans groaned and rubbed his jaw as he heard the jangle of a padlock behind him and the guard's retreating footsteps. It was dark down in the ship's hold, the only light from a lantern swinging just outside the bars of his cell. He heard shouts and stomps from the decks above as the crew made ready to sail to the Southern Isles.  
  
He gingerly touched his nose. The water had washed the blood away, but it still felt broken. The one good thing about being moved down below was that there was no one to mock his bruised appearance.  
  
At least, he did not think so.  
  
Hans sat up, his back to one wall, facing a dark corner where the lantern's scant light did not touch. Had something moved there? Was that breathing he heard—or just the rats that no doubt multiplied on this filthy ship? He watched, hardly taking a breath himself, but saw no movement. He was certain he saw some kind of  _shape_.  
  
He stood up, and the shadow followed his movement. When he saw that it was only his own silhouette, he rolled his eyes.  
  
“Don't be a fool,” he said to himself, scoffing. Prisoner he may be, but he was still a prince on his own ship, and here he was, scared of the dark. “It's nothing,” he muttered.  
  
He turned aside to look out between the bars, though there was little to see there, either.  
  
“ _Is it?_ ”  
  
The hairs on the back of his neck prickled. Hans looked back at the other end of the cell. Out from the darkness stepped a man—tall and thin, with long black hair and and otherworldly pallor. There was a menacing glint to his eyes. Hans could not see his hands.  
  
The young prince took a step back, but his shoulders bumped into the ship's bulkhead. He reached out to grasp one of the cell bars to steady himself.  
  
“Who are you?” he asked. “What are you doing in here?”  
  
One of the man's thin, pale hands was at his throat before Hans could even glimpse it. He gurgled for breath, but the hand only pressed harder, its strength inhuman. His head pushed against the wall, Hans clawed at the man's hand and wrist, to no avail. His already bulging eyes opened further when he saw the dagger in his assailant's other hand—a shining silver blade, with a gold handle inlaid with rubies the color of blood and flame. Hans tried to shout for help, but the fingers around his neck left no room for air, either coming or going.  
  
The man sheathed the blade in the young prince's belly, sending pain and heat surging through the rest of his body. He twisted the dagger's grip, and Hans shuddered and squirmed in his agony. The prince thrashed his legs, but remained upright against the bulkhead, so strong was the hold on his throat. The man's emerald eyes never strayed from Hans' face as the prince rapidly lost air and blood.  
  
“I am here to collect on a debt,” the stranger said.


	8. An Invitation Repeated

“Your majesty, there is a man here to see you…”  
  
Elsa looked up from the desk in her private study. She had thought that her robust, middle-aged housekeeper was not afraid of anything. Yet today she came before the queen with voice and knees equally tremulous.  
  
“What man?” Elsa asked.  _If he was really so scary, the guards would have raised a hue and cry._  
  
“He…he will not tell me, your majesty. But he asked— _demanded_ —to speak with you.”  
  
“Now, Inga,” Elsa said, putting down her pen and standing up. “After all the visitors here, and after all that  _I've_  put this poor kingdom through, who could possibly be so fright—”  
  
As soon as it occurred to her, the words stopped. Inga looked at her curiously.  
  
_Not now. Not after everything that has happened_ …  
  
“Well,” Elsa continued, “you'd better show him in, then.”  
  
Despite Inga's fear, the visitor was all smiles and easy confidence as he strode into Elsa's study. The prince of Asgard had foregone his formal armor and cloak, and was dressed in a simple dark uniform, much like the one he had worn the first time she met him.  
  
Elsa could not keep a queenly composure. “ _You!_ ”  
  
“I?” Loki said with perfect nonchalance.  
  
The young queen shot a dart of ice at him, but he deflected it, and it burst into a frozen puddle on the carpet. It only made her angrier. She blasted magic at him, over and over, but he blocked and diverted it all with an indolent smile that she wanted to slap away.  
  
Not until she nearly broke a window did Elsa finally lower her arms. Blue ice had splattered across nearly every surface of the study. She was breathing heavily, but Loki was hardly ruffled.  
  
“Your majesty!” a woman's voice shrieked.  
  
Elsa and Loki both turned to the open doorway, where a frantic-looking Inga appeared with two young footmen. One of them brandished a candlestick in his gloved hand, presumably to defend his queen.  
  
When they saw that Elsa did not appear to be in danger, their gazes darted all over the room. Aside from there being ice and snow everywhere, books had fallen off their shelves, candles were knocked over, and a chandelier rocked ominously. Several papers blown off the desk were just now fluttering down to the floor.  
  
“Are…are you all right, your royal highness?” the younger footman asked timidly.  
  
“Perfectly all right,” Elsa said. “Thank you for coming to my aid, but as you can see, I am not under attack. You may go.”  
  
The three servants hesitated, looked at Loki, and then scattered. When they were gone, Elsa turned her attention back to her visitor, a little calmer if not less angry.  
  
“You  _left_ ,” Elsa said.  
  
“You heard my brother,” Loki said. “It was time, and you refused to go with me. Had I other options?”  
  
“You knew. You  _knew_  what had happened in Arendelle, and you never told me. Did you think I wanted the city and all my guests to freeze to death? Did  _you_  want it? Just because I stayed behind? Was that your revenge? You said that you wanted to help me, but I guess that was just another lie.”  
  
“You did so  _well_  without me, after all,” he said cheerfully. She gave him a look that was almost a snarl, and he finally dropped his grin. “Perhaps I was in error,” he admitted. “I was  _going_ to tell you, but—”  
  
“No, you weren't,” Elsa said.  
  
“I was angry. I was…insulted by your refusal. I wanted to see how the little Midgardian queen with her burgeoning powers would solve this disaster. It was petty of me. I never thought the circumstances would grow quite so desperate.”  
  
“You watched it?” Elsa said. “And you did nothing?”  
  
“By the time I realized how dire things were, it was too late for me to help. I came to do what I could.”  
  
“Which was  _nothing_ ,” Elsa said. “I thought you cared, I-I thought you…” She paused to swallow back the burning sensation in her throat. “My sister  _died_ , Loki. After all I tried to do to protect her, she died—because of me. Her final act of love saved my life, saved everyone, and even brought her back. It showed me what my powers were missing.”  
  
She did not want to say it, but something inside prodded her, made her feel like she had to. “I wondered if you loved me, but…it was ludicrous, of course. We'd only met a few times. Now I know what real love is, and…no thanks to you.”  
  
“Elsa,” he said, taking a step toward her. “If you had been lost…so would I.”  
  
She shook her head and took the step back. “ _Words_ ,” she said. “Anna thought words could calm the storm, too. But it needed action—and so do I. You're just words, Loki, and those not even true.”  
  
She looked around at the damage to her study. When she extended her arms again, all the ice drew slowly back toward its source. It collected into an enormous globe of frozen crystals, hovering above her palms. Another wave of her hands, and the ice vanished. Although Loki's eyelids were lowered disinterestedly, his eyebrows flickered upward. She recognized the expression: he was impressed.  
  
“If you have nothing more to offer me  _but_ words, you may go,” she said.  
  
“What else would you accept?” he asked.  
  
“Do you have any other ideas?”  
  
“A few,” he said.  
  
He took a step to close the distance between them. Elsa was fast, but he was faster. He caught her upper arms and pulled her tightly against him, his mouth crashing into hers. Her palms pushed to get away, and she tried to turn her head. In a few moments, Elsa stopped resisting, her outstretched fingers curled and grasped the fabric of his tunic, and her lips softened beneath his. His hold relaxed as his arms encircled her. Pressed this close to him, she could feel both their rapid heartbeats.  
  
When Loki let her break away, his eyes shone with equal parts desire and triumph. But Elsa just smiled.  
  
“Is the prince trying to melt my heart with a kiss?” Elsa asked. “Anna was wrong about that, too.”  
  
“Was she,” Loki said. “You seemed to enjoy it nonetheless.”  
  
“I'm made of ice, not stone.”  
  
Loki laughed, and Elsa took a step back from him. She felt that her face had flushed and her pulse was still racing, but she tried to ignore it and folded her arms. “However sweet, your kiss can't break the spell here—and it doesn't undo the things you've said.”  
  
“I spoke in selfish haste. You are so stubborn, your grace. I meant to break your will—not your heart.”  
  
“The ice here is made of stronger stuff than you're used to, it seems,” Elsa said, her tone lofty. “' _Stronger than one, stronger than ten, stronger than a hundred men_ ,' is how the old song goes. ' _Beautiful, cold, and empty_ ' is how  _you_  put it.”  
  
“As I said, I spoke in haste.” He smiled. “Though  _one_  part of that is still true.”  
  
Elsa turned away from him and sat back down at her desk. She made no invitation for Loki to sit, waiting to see if he would claim the courtesy for himself.  
  
“I don't think you came here to apologize,” she said.  
  
“Well, in a  _way_ ,” Loki answered. He moved toward the desk and took a seat in the nearest chair. “I came to see that no animosity remained between us. I came to make amends, if you like.”  
  
“How do you think to do that?”  
  
“By repeating the offer I made when I was here before—and before that. I am inviting you, once again, to come with me to Asgard. For as long as you like, to return the moment you wish it.”  
  
Her pulse had calmed down from the kiss, but at the mention of Asgard, it sped up again.  
  
“You really want me to go?” she asked. “Do you  _really_  want me there?”  
  
As soon as she asked, though, she remembered his face on the North Mountain, and the way he said “please.” He was a liar—an accomplished one. She knew that then; she knew it better now. Yet something in him that day had seemed so honest. She glanced at his face now, and wondered if he was thinking of that moment, too.  
  
_Remember what happened the last time you said no,_ Elsa thought.  _Remember how much you wanted him back_.  
  
_But I needed him then. I don't need him now._  
  
_Then this journey should be that much less urgent—and that much more enjoyable._  
  
He was sitting calmly and comfortably in the chair, as though he were home in his own palace. He watched her, but she tried not to meet his eyes, afraid of what he might find there. For all that had happened, she still liked him, still  _wanted_ him, and she did not relish the thought of being away from him for a long time. But what if this was all just another lie? How did she know she really would come back—or that they were even going where he said they were?  
  
She was just making excuses now, Elsa realized. She was trying to convince herself not to go, but she already knew what she wanted.  
  
_Be the good girl you always have to be._  
  
_That perfect girl is gone._  
  
“Wait here, please,” she said.  
  
She kept her regal composure as she walked out of the study and halfway down the hall, but then took off at a run. She practically flew down the east staircase, out of a side door, across the back courtyard, and toward the palace stables. She did not slow down until then. Elsa took a deep breath and stepped inside the stables. As she had expected, Anna was there.  
  
The princess had returned from her morning ride and was now surrounded by several young children from the town. She had been trying to teach some of them how to ride, but most of them just wanted to pet and feed the horses or jump on bales of hay. One chubby little boy with sandy hair sat nervously astride Anna's mare, Summer Wind, and looked as though he were about to cry. Elsa could tell that Anna was trying to console him, but he clamped his legs and gripped the reins as though that was all that kept him from certain doom.  
  
“Queen Elsa!” one little girl cried out from her position atop a stack of hay bales. Two other children darted behind the door of an empty stall, timid in the presence of the monarch.  
  
Anna helped the boy down from the saddle and approached her sister, plucking a piece of straw from her hair. “To what do we owe this visit?” she asked, smiling.  
  
“I have to talk to you about something,” Elsa said. She felt a tug on her skirt, and looked down. The little girl had climbed down from the hay and was now standing very close to her.  
  
“Your majesty, will you do your magic?” the child asked. “I want to go skating!” Her request was loudly echoed by the sandy-haired boy.  
  
Elsa smiled. “Not just now,” she said.  
  
“The queen wants to talk to me,” Anna said, patting the girl's head. “We'll go skating later.”  
  
“But  _when?_ ” the boy asked.  
  
“Soon,” Elsa said, leading Anna out into the courtyard.  
  
“Is something wrong?” the younger sister asked. Elsa took a seat at the edge of a fountain. Anna followed suit, facing her.  
  
The queen stared into the water, wondering how to begin. “Do you remember the two brothers who came to my coronation?” she asked. “They gave me the dagger.”  
  
“The two princes?” Anna asked. “The one you danced with? He asked me for your glove after you ran off. I thought he wanted it as some sort of token.”  
  
“His name is Loki,” Elsa said. “After I left, he found me at the ice palace, before you did. He'd been to Arendelle before, years ago. I snuck off one night, just to leave the palace, and I happened upon him in the woods. When Mother and Father died, I went to their graves, and he was there. He has magic, and he's from another world, called Asgard.”  
  
Anna was listening, clearly fascinated. Her blue eyes were enormous, and she seemed to be hanging on Elsa's every word.  
  
“I was still trying to hide my powers then, of course,” Elsa went on. “He said he could help me. He wanted me to come to Asgard and learn from him and his mother. I asked him to wait until the coronation, and he did.”  
  
“That's so  _romantic_ ,” Anna sighed.  
  
“Well,” Elsa said, “I ran off before I could give him an answer. He asked me again, when he found me at the ice palace, but by then, everything had changed. I told him no—we argued—he left. But now he's back, and…everything's changed again. But he still wants me to go with him.”  
  
“You  _have_  to go!” Anna gasped. “Elsa, you can't miss the chance again! This is the most exciting thing I've ever heard!”  
  
Elsa suppressed a sigh of exasperation. She was not sure what she wanted to get out of discussing the matter with Anna, but a rational response was clearly not an option. She did not even know how to  _begin_ to explain Loki and her own conflicting feelings.  
  
“But Anna, this…man, Loki, he's…dangerous. He's  _devious_.”  
  
“He seemed quite civil when  _I_ met him.”  
  
“So did Hans, remember?” Anna frowned at that remark, but said nothing. Elsa added, “He reached the North Mountain before you, but he didn't tell me about the winter I made.”  
  
“But it turned out all right,” Anna said. “You didn't know how to fix it then, anyway. Maybe he didn't either, and he wanted to spare you.” She gasped. “Is he  _in love with you?_ ”  
  
“No!” Elsa snapped. “I mean…I'm quite certain he's not.” She bit her lip and said nothing else, but she could not help remembering that night she went to her parents' markers.  
  
“ _Why should you help me?” she had asked Loki. “Why do you care?”_  
  
“ _I am desperately in love with you…All right then_ _—_ _I offer my friendship and my help to gain your trust and loyalty, in hopes that you will become a powerful ally…Or, perhaps you are simply the most intriguing creature I have encountered in this uncultured and uninspired realm…”_  
  
_Which one—if any—had been true then? Were any of them true now?_  
  
“Of course he is!” Anna said. “Why else would he come back, or want you to see his country? Hans was out to get something from us, but this Loki is trying to impress you, Elsa. He wants to sweep you off your feet!”  
  
“Somehow I don't think Loki is the type to sweep a girl off her feet,” Elsa said.  
  
“Do you love him?” Anna asked.  
  
“No,” Elsa said. “Well…”  
  
“You do!”  
  
“No, I just…I'm not sure.”  
  
“I bet you'll find out if you go,” Anna said, her voice taking on a singsong quality that set Elsa's teeth on edge.  
  
“Anna,  _stop_ ,” Elsa said.  
  
“I'm just teasing. Where is he, anyway?”  
  
“In the study,” Elsa said. “The palace will probably go up in flames any minute.”  
  
Anna laughed. “He  _loves_ you, he won't let anything happen. Elsa, go with him, you just  _have_  to.”  
  
Elsa sat silently for a moment. “It would be my first official visit as queen,” she finally said.  
  
“Oh, don't be 'official' about this, you'll spoil it,” Anna said, rolling her eyes. She grabbed Elsa's hand to pull her to her feet. “Come on, I'll help you pack!”  
  
“Anna!” Elsa scolded. “I can't just throw some gowns in a trunk and board a ship. I'm queen—I have to make sure everything is taken care of first. You'll have responsibilities too.”  
  
“That won't take long,” Anna said. “You'll be on your way by this time tomorrow! And whatever you want me to do, I won't mind. And you still have advisors. Everything will be  _fine_.”  
  
As they crossed the courtyard, Elsa looked up at the palace. Was that Loki at the study window? She wondered if he could hear as well as see the two of them. Best not to think of that possibility. She sent Anna off to find her secretary and proceeded to the study.  
  
Loki had not set anything on fire, and had not disturbed anything in the room. He was in the chair, reading a history of Arendelle and the surrounding lands. When he looked up from the book, he already seemed to know what she was going to say. Elsa almost hated to give him that satisfaction.  
  
“I will go,” she said. “We may leave as soon as I have the kingdom's affairs in order.”  
  
Loki heaved a loud sigh as he set the book on a table beside his chair. “What consolation! I knew not  _what_ I would have done to be refused a third time.”  
  
“I daresay you would have survived,” Elsa said dryly.

 

* * *

Two days later, Elsa stood at the top of a hill overlooking Arendelle, wondering at everything that had happened over the last weeks. She and Loki were very near where they had first met. Now, it was not only the two of them, but Anna, Inga, her prime minister, and three guards to bear witness. Her little sister's eyes were wide open and sparkling with anticipation.  
  
Elsa felt vulnerable without any luggage. Loki had promised no need of it, that all necessities would be seen to in Asgard. That had not allayed her fears that he might be up to something less innocent than a holiday. At least Elsa could arm herself with more than just her magic. She had found the dagger Villieldr in a chest in her room, where the guard had placed it for safekeeping during her coronation. It was now hanging from a belt at her waist, inside a layer of gown and beneath her traveling cloak.  
  
“I hope you have a marvelous journey!” Anna said, rushing to give her one more tight hug. “I cannot wait to hear all about  _everything!_ ”  
  
Elsa returned the embrace, hoping that Anna could not feel her anxiety. It was plain enough on her face. She remembered three years ago, when their parents had gone on another faraway journey—one longer than even they had planned. In fear of her own powers, Elsa had not dared to touch them when she bid them goodbye; she gave them only a curtsey and a final plea not to go. She wished that Anna would make such a plea to her now, but her sister's head was full of romance and adventure, and she wanted the queen to return with a new story to tell.  
  
_You'll be fine, Elsa_ , were her father's final words to her.  
  
_I was, eventually,_ Elsa thought.  _But you weren't._  
  
“Ready?” Loki asked Elsa when Anna finally let her go.  
  
“I-I suppose so,” she said.  
  
“Hold on to me,” he said. Elsa stepped closer and grasped Loki's waistcoat, such as it was, and refused to look up at the smirk she knew he was wearing. Loki took more liberties bringing his arms all the way around Elsa and pressing her close before he leaned his head back and shouted toward the clear sky above. “Heimdall! Open the Bifrost!”  
  
Seconds later, the two of them were surrounded by a beam of rainbow light. This time, when Elsa felt the ground fall away from her feet, it was not just figurative. Faster than the swiftest winter wind, they were pulled upward, past the treetops, past the clouds, past all sense of space. Elsa pressed her face into Loki's chest, overwhelmed by the light and the force of their movement. Then they were pulled forward instead of upward, and Elsa felt as though she were squeezed through a small tube. Suddenly there was a fresh gust of wind, a solid surface under her, and she and Loki were stumbling away from each other.  
  
Elsa steadied herself, shook hear head, and immediately lost all capability of speech. They were standing in an enormous, dome-shaped room, every surface of which shimmered with gold. Even the huge, dark-skinned man standing on a platform at the center of it was wearing gilded armor, and there was a golden glow to his eyes.  
  
_This must be the giant gatekeeper Loki told me about_ , Elsa thought. He stared down at her stoically, and she remained dumb. She flinched when she felt Loki's hand on her elbow. When she looked up at him, he smiled, entirely unfazed by their travels.  
  
“Welcome to Asgard,” he said.


	9. Teatime in Asgard

Inside the great domed structure, Loki introduced Elsa to Heimdall, the all-seeing Gatekeeper. From there, they went out to the edge of an enormous bridge that spanned a vast void, bigger than any mountain canyon Elsa had ever seen. When Loki offered his arm, she held on tightly. The bridge shimmered with a rainbow light, and though it was wide enough for a ship, the emptiness beneath made Elsa nervous. The bridge seemed to vibrate beneath their feet, and she heard a distant rumbling.  
  
“There is a magnificent waterfall on the other side,” Loki said when she asked what that sound was. “You'll see it before long.”  
  
There was a faint light on the far end of their path, but Elsa could not tell what it was until they were halfway across. As though they walked from night to dawn, the horizon grew lighter, until she saw a golden hill in the distance. They passed the waterfall, where the waters roared so loudly that they had to shout to each other to be heard. After that, there was no longer a void beneath the bridge, but a flowing river so wide that Elsa could not see where it ended.  
  
Eventually the river narrowed, and small islands dotted the waters. The gold hill grew until Elsa saw that it was a building—Odin's palace. It dwarfed every other structure in Asgard, but it was not the only golden edifice to be seen. The sun glinted off gold, silver, marble, iron, and copper on buildings and bridges all around them. Elsa had to shield her eyes to see anything.  
  
Inside the palace, every room was filled with sculpture, decorative plants, mosaics, sconces and torches, and luxurious draperies. The view seemed unique to every window, all equally breathtaking. Elsa could have taken an hour in every room, but Loki hurried her along a stone corridor full of sky-high columns.  
  
“Where are we going?” Elsa whispered. Even that volume echoed in the chamber. “To the king?”  
  
“I thought I would introduce you to the  _real_  seat of power in this realm,” Loki said.  
  
They turned from the entrance to what looked like the throne room—Elsa thought she heard a man's voice inside—and down another corridor. She lost count of how many servants and soldiers passed them, nodding or bowing to the prince and his guest. Aside from their costumes, it was not so very different from a stroll down the hall of Arendelle Castle.  
  
They came to another elaborate set of double doors, and they were outside again. A wave of fragrances struck her nose the moment the doors opened. They stepped onto a stone-paved terrace adjoining a garden bursting with flowers and foliage. Most of the vegetation was entirely exotic to Elsa. A few species were almost like their Midgardian counterparts. They were larger, or brighter, or colored differently, or growing a different way. She heard fountains beyond the hedges that bordered the terrace. Several statues peeked over the tops of the plants.  
  
“It's…glorious,” she said.  
  
Loki made a move toward the steps leading into the garden, but hesitated. He looked at Elsa, who seemed to have forgotten he was there. Her expression was hungry as she took in her surroundings. He reached out to pluck a purple, tulip-like blossom from a vine wrapped around a balustrade. When he held it out to her, Elsa looked up at him with eyes full of worry.  
  
“Is it safe?” she asked.  
  
“Fear not, our gardens do not bite,” he said with mock seriousness. She gave him that annoyed, no-nonsense look.  
  
“You know what I mean,” she said. “No one ever gave me flowers before. They…freeze on me.”  
  
“That was then,” Loki said, keeping up his solemn tone, “and in another place. Here you are a weak, pathetic little mortal who is no match for Asgard's mighty flowers.”  
  
With another little scowl, Elsa snatched the bloom out of his hand. Loki smiled as she slowly twirled the stem between two fingers, watching it. The blossom stayed just the same, and did not frost. Elsa brought it to her nose, inhaled, and finally smiled again.  
  
“Thank you,” she said.  
  
“Loki!” another female voice called out.  
  
A tall woman with golden hair emerged from behind the hedgerow and climbed the steps to the porch. She was older, though it was difficult to know what that meant in this country. The only lines were around her blue-gray eyes and her mouth when she smiled—which she was doing now.  
  
“The servants told me you had returned,” the woman said, kissing Loki on the cheek.  
  
“I thought to find you here,” he said.  
  
“So you have.” The older woman turned her attention to Elsa. “You brought a visitor.”  
  
“May I present to you Queen Elsa, of the land of Arendelle, in the realm of Midgard,” Loki said. “Elsa, may I introduce to you Queen Frigga of Asgard, wife to our King Odin Allfather, and my lady mother.”  
  
“How do you do,” Elsa said, curtseying as she had been taught from a young age. After her coronation, it was strange to be the one presented to a queen.  
  
“My son has spoken of you, your grace,” Frigga said. “You are most heartily welcome to Asgard, where we are all at your disposal.” Her tone was kind, but her gaze was sharp. Elsa might be a queen herself, but she could not help wondering if she would pass muster.  
  
“I am honored and grateful to be your guest, your highness,” Elsa said. “The palace is breathtaking, and the rainbow bridge is…expansive.”  
  
“Loki,” Frigga said, “did you make her grace  _walk_ all the way across the Bifrost? A visiting queen demands more courtesy than that—you could have sent for a pair of horses, at the very least.”  
  
“Oh, I don't demand anything,” Elsa said. “Really, I didn't mind.”  
  
“You must be worn out,” the older queen said, leading Elsa to a round, metal table with four chairs. “Come, sit here. I will send for refreshments.”  
  
When she imagined her visit to Asgard, Elsa had not pictured any sort of teatime. She sat at the table with Loki and Frigga, eating fruits and breads and sweets and drinking spiced wine and mead and strange teas, beneath a robust Asgardian sun, surrounded by flowers whose bouquet were more intoxicating than the mead. The foods—and the servants that brought them—seemed endless.  
  
Frigga, draped in a light blue, tunic-like gown that set off her complexion perfectly, was not out of place in the riot of colors and sunshine. Neither was Elsa, in a pale green dress and silver-grey traveling cloak. Loki's garments of leather, metal accents, and dark fabrics were out-of-place, but he seemed comfortable enough. He was fairly quiet, maintaining a look of vague amusement.  
  
The older queen asked Elsa more questions than Loki ever had. The younger queen spoke about her sister, the kingdom, her parents, the household, her political mentors, the city and the mountains, the fjord and wildlife. Elsa could not believe how long it took for Frigga to make the critical remark she had long been waiting for.  
  
“Loki tells me that you have magic, your grace. I understand that is unusual in Midgard these days.”  
  
“It is,” Elsa said. “Very unusual.”  
  
“Were you born with your powers?” the older queen asked. “Or were they bestowed upon you?”  
  
“My parents said I was born with them,” Elsa said.  
  
She remembered the night of the accident, when the trolls had taken away Anna's memories of magic. “ _Born with the powers, or cursed?_ ” the grand-troll had asked. Elsa preferred Frigga's phrasing.  _Bestowed_ … _like a gift_.  
  
“All the more powerful, then,” Frigga said. She reached out her hand to the younger woman. “May I?”  
  
Elsa was not sure what she meant, so she extended her own hand. It was evidently the correct response. Frigga took Elsa's hand in her own, lightly touching the palm like a fortune-teller. Elsa held back a shiver, remembering how Loki had held it in much the same way, with a similarly curious expression. As Loki's had done before, Elsa felt Frigga's touch calm her power somehow. She could sense that Frigga held a magic both dangerous and beautiful—and far beyond her own.  
  
“When you have rested a bit, I would very much like to see the workings of your magic,” Frigga said. “Perhaps tomorrow?”  
  
“Of course,” Elsa said. When Frigga released her hand, though, Elsa felt her power slowly return. “Although…” she said.  
  
Both Loki and his mother gave her curious looks. Elsa picked up the blossom that Loki had given her from where she had set it on the table. She held it up and watched it turn cold and blue as her frost crept out of her fingers and up the stem, until the entire flower became a tiny ice sculpture. Loki's mouth twitched, and the elder queen smiled indulgently.  
  
“You do have talent, your grace,” she said. “I am most anxious to see your powers after a good night's sleep.”  
  
No doubt it was kindly meant, but the remark made Elsa feel foolish. Her demonstration must have seemed a childish parlor trick compared to what an Asgardian sorceress was capable of producing.  
  
Frigga stood. “Alas, your grace cannot rest until a room has been prepared for you. I assume that my son has not taken care of such details, so I will take the liberty of assuming the duties of hospitality.”  
  
“Please don't take any trouble,” Elsa said.  
  
“Nonsense,” Frigga said. “A word in a servant's ear, and all is seen to. Sit, and we will meet again.”  
  
After she had disappeared back into the palace, Elsa turned to Loki. “It isn't just me—you don't tell anyone  _anything_ , do you?”  
  
“I reveal what is necessary, when it is necessary,” Loki said.  
  
Elsa looked at the doors where Frigga had gone inside. “I like her.”  
  
“She likes you,” Loki said.  
  
“I wasn't sure,” Elsa said. “I couldn't tell if she was just being gracious, or—”  
  
“She likes you,” he repeated. He stood and held out a hand. “If you are finished with your refreshments, your grace…?”  
  
Elsa took his hand as he helped her to her feet, but once she was standing, he did not let go. “What now?” she asked.  
  
“What would you like?” He drew closer to her, smiling as he took her other hand. “We have sat out here for some time, and as I recall, the sun hurts your eyes.” He released her hands and curled his arms around her waist. “The queen is the kindest woman in Yggdrasil, to give us privacy. We might go inside, where it is shaded and cool. I could give you a tour of my favorite rooms in the palace.”  
  
“What rooms are  _those?_ ” Elsa asked.  
  
“The library, of course,” Loki said, all wide-eyed innocence.  
  
Elsa could not help laughing at that. Then his arms shifted and brushed against the dagger hanging from her hip. She fell abruptly quiet and pressed her lips together.  
  
“My dear little queen, I think you are concealing something extra beneath your skirts.”  
  
She took a shuddering breath. “The dagger,” she said. “I didn't know what to expect, so…”  
  
“I suppose that speaks well of my choice of gift, that you would not like to be parted from it,” he said. He surprised her by adopting a slightly more serious tone and expression. “Keep it hidden. Let no one know you have it.”  
  
“I don't think anyone else would find out the same way you did,” she said. It was Loki's turn to laugh, but he still did not let go of her. “Weren't you going to show me that library you like so much?”  
  
Loki's grin was indecent. “I think it is not time to cool off yet, after all.”  
  
Elsa would have snorted with derision had she the time, but Loki pulled her closer before she could respond. Whether it was the Asgardian climate, the scent of the garden, the strength of the mead, or some combination of all three, the kiss was more potent than the others before it. His cool touch was refreshing in the day's heat, and his slim torso was like a pillar of strength for her to lean upon. She felt safe in his arms, however much every particle of common sense told her to feel otherwise. Elsa stood on her toes to kiss him back, for a moment forgetting everything in the world but Loki and the concoction of sensations rising within her.  
  
She opened her eyes a fraction of a moment before he did, and in one instant she saw a flash of—what? It was in and out of his eyes like a candle snuffed out, but Elsa knew she had seen something.  
 _  
He loves you,_ Anna had told her.  
 _  
How could she know that?  
_ _  
I wish he did. Heaven help me, but I wish he did_.  
  
Elsa looked down from his face, almost as though to give Loki some privacy. She pressed her forehead against his chest, feeling his heart beating and his lungs stirring.  
  
The crunch of boots on gravel and a clamor of boisterous voices came too quickly. Loki and Elsa disentangled themselves and stepped away from each other just as a small group of armed soldiers came around a hedge corner. Thor was among them.  
  
“Brother!” he said, loud and jovial.  
  
By the grin that touched both his mouth and his sparkling blue eyes, Elsa knew he had seen enough. One of his companions—another blond man with a goatee and dashingly unkempt hair—looked more openly amused. Elsa felt blood pooling in her freckled cheeks, and could not remember feeling more foolish and less queenly.  
  
One armored man was so stoic that Elsa thought he must not have caught the glimpse of her and Loki—or simply did not care. It seemed the same for another soldier—the largest man Elsa had ever seen—due to the shaggy hair covering scalp and chin, but then she saw that his eyes were wide with shock. The last of the group, a maiden dressed in warrior's plate, wore an expression of horror that she valiantly tried to quell when she saw Elsa looking at her.  
  
“Just when I had word of your departure, I find you returned, and with a remarkable prize!” Thor was saying. He seemed more informal and much louder in his own home, surrounded by his own friends. He was still beautiful and fierce, but his natural setting made him seem more human and less the sun-birthed demigod he had been in Aredelle. At the same time, his armored friends and their array of weaponry made a terrifying contrast to the floral environment.  
  
Elsa finally dared to look at Loki again. His face was an immobile mask, betraying no emotion at all.  
  
“We are all standing quite near to you,” Loki said. “There is no need to speak so loudly.”  
  
“Queen Elsa,” Thor said, ignoring Loki, “I am astonished to see you here, but no less delighted. May I present my friends, since my brother has not bothered to do so?” He gestured to the blond man beside him, calling him Fandral, “the best blade in Asgard.”  
  
“And the most talkative,” the warrior-maiden offered with a smirk.  
  
“That is Lady Sif,” Thor said. He introduced the enormous, hairy man as Volstagg, and the stoic soldier as Hogun. After they had bowed to Elsa in turn, she curtseyed. Thor introduced her simply as Queen Elsa of Midgard, which impressed them. They did not seem to realize that she shared Midgard with many other rulers.  
  
“I hope you will find Asgard to your liking, your grace,” Lady Sif said. She spoke politely, but her tone hinted at something else. Perhaps this armed lady was suspicious of the visitor. Elsa even wondered if she was jealous—a terrible and vain thought, but there it was.  
  
“I already do,” Elsa said, smiling. “Loki and Queen Frigga have been very welcoming.”  
  
“So we see—most welcoming  _indeed_ ,” Fandral said, grinning. Elsa looked down at the ground, ashamed.  
  
“What did the Silver Tongue say to convince you to join us here after all?” Thor asked her.  
  
“Oh…” Elsa finally glanced at Loki again, but his expression had not changed. He stood still, hands clasped behind his back, and almost bored. He did not even seem to be the same Loki who had teased and kissed her minutes earlier. “Nothing in particular. I decided I wanted to come after all.” She tried to smile again. “It seemed only polite, since you were kind enough to come to my coronation.”  
  
“Shall there be a banquet to honor the guest?” Volstagg asked.  
  
“If only to give you another excuse for a feast,” Thor said, slapping his rotund friend on the back. Everyone but Loki and Hogun at least chuckled. Thor looked at his brother. “Tomorrow, if Father permits?”  
  
At last, Loki spoke up. “Perhaps the queen would like a few days' respite before being put on display for yet another kingdom.”  
  
“Thor was only trying to be hospitable,” Lady Sif said to Loki, apparently offended.  
  
 _She is not jealous of me,_ Elsa decided.  _It is Thor who concerns her the most_.  
  
“I have no complaints about Asgardian hospitality so far,” she said, earning another grin from the one called Fandral. He nudged Thor knowingly. She felt something at her elbow and turned to see Loki standing closer.  
  
“No doubt Queen Elsa finds your most  _hospitable_ talk fascinating,” he said, “but she has requested a tour of the palace reading rooms. It has been a pleasure, as always.”  
  
“I am pleased to have made your acquaintance,” Elsa said to the group. Loki did not give her time for a proper curtsey before drawing her away, inside the palace. There, they did not retrace their steps, but walked along corridors Elsa had not yet seen. Loki even led her up two flights of stairs.  
  
“I'd thank you for rescuing me,” she said, “but I'm guessing you rescued yourself just as much.”  
  
“I have an infinite list of things I would prefer to their chatter,” Loki said.  
  
“You and your brother don't share friends then,” Elsa guessed.  
  
“As you say.”  
  
“Is there really going to be a banquet?” she asked nervously. She was beginning to feel like Anna, with all her curiosity and questions, but Anna would be much more receptive to the idea of a feast.  
  
As they climbed a set of stairs, Loki stopped and turned around so abruptly that Elsa, just behind him, almost smacked her face against a metal accent in his coat. “Would you  _like_ us to hold a great feast in your honor?” he asked. “It could be arranged.”  
  
Elsa grimaced slightly. “Not really, no. After the last feast I attended, I've had my fill for a while.”  
  
Loki smiled. “Good.” He turned to resume the climb. “If I believed you to be the sort who expected to be honored with banquets and revelry, I would not have brought you here in the first place.”  
  
Coming from Loki, that seemed like some kind of compliment, but Elsa did not know what to say.  
  
“An intimate dinner with the immediate royal family seemed quite terrifying enough,” Loki added. He stopped in front of a set of enormous, heavy doors of dark wood.  
  
“What?” Elsa gasped. He did not answer, but gave her a wicked grin and pushed the doors open.    
  
Elsa almost immediately forgot what he had said when she stepped inside the huge room. Inside, it was cool and dry and dim, with high ceilings and a marble floor covered with rich carpets. The air was thick with knowledge and magic and history. Within the doors, which Loki had closed behind them, the silence pressed against her ears as though they had been stuffed with cotton wool.  
  
The walls themselves were constructed entirely of shelves, cupboards, and compartments filled with books, scrolls, and curios of every sort. In the center of the room stood glass cases, filled with larger artifacts and surrounded by tables and chairs or upholstered benches. She hardly knew where to look, and could not bring herself to speak. It reminded her of her ice palace newly built—beautiful, silent, and sacred.  
  
Her travel slippers made no noise as she crossed the floor to one of the glass cases. Inside it was laid a scepter of iron, shimmering black, grey, and blue in the low light.  
  
“The scepter of Laufey, king of the Jotuns—the Frost Giants,” Loki said in a hushed tone as he moved to stand beside her. “Odin defeated him in a great battle centuries ago, before my birth, and took the source of their power. He forbids any connection between Asgard and Jotunheim.” He jerked his chin toward the iron stick. “This object was merely symbolic, hence its presence here. The true power of the Jotuns was in the Casket of Ancient Winters, which my father had locked in the weapons vault, under protection of the Destroyer.  
  
“The Jotuns tried to use it to enslave Midgard, releasing a dark and frigid energy that the humans could not oppose. They might have frozen the entire Earth if Odin had not defeated them.” He grinned at Elsa. “Perhaps someday we might test your power against that of the Casket. You are not a Frost Giant in disguise, are you?”  
  
Elsa shivered, remembering what she had done to Arendelle and wondering what else might have happened if her sister had not saved her. “It looks…cruel,” she said of the scepter.  
  
“As were the hands that held it, they say.”  
  
She did not want to look at the display anymore, and so Elsa moved on to look at one of the bookshelves. Some of the volumes looked as though they would crumble under her breath. Others were bound in leather, with gilded and even jeweled covers, that looked too heavy for her to lift.  
  
“Do you enjoy reading?” Loki asked.  
  
“There was nothing else to do when I was little, kept to my room as I was.” Elsa reached for a scroll with a broken seal, but when she unrolled it, she saw the page was filled with runes she did not understand. She put it back on its shelf.  
  
“Here,” Loki said, pulling out a more reasonably sized volume and handing it to her.  
  
“ _A Labour to Harness the Visions Beyond_ ,” Elsa read. “What's this?”  
  
“An old sorcerer from ages past wrote about his work in conjuring visions of other realms. That was before we had Heimdall as gatekeeper to see everything.”  
  
“But you  _can_ do that. The first night we met, you showed me Asgard, like a crystal ball.”  
  
“That I did.” He tapped the book in her hands. “And there you have it. Heimdall's powers naturally allow him to see and hear anything happening in the Nine Realms—or so the legends say. My abilities are comparatively meager, but this wizard's work has given me a place to start.”  
  
Elsa looked up at the shelves again. “Are  _all_  these books about magic?”  
  
“Hardly. There are poems, plays, histories, some very dull ledgers, scrolls of every royal decree made by every king of Asgard, speculations on the future, guides for palace etiquette and righteous living, studies of animals and plants in every realm, and I daresay you might find a cookbook or two.”  
  
Elsa let out a giggle as she returned the book to its place. “And this is your favorite room.”  
  
“I would say so.”  
  
She craned her neck to look around the place before setting her gaze back on Loki. “Mine, too.”  
  
The room's torchlight gave his green eyes a strange flicker, but this time there seemed to be nothing mischievous in them. He seemed relaxed, and his smile was almost warm. Looking at him now, in these surroundings, Elsa wondered if maybe she did really love him. She dared not ask, but there was a contentment in his face that made her dare to hope that he loved her, too.


	10. The Thief and the Decoy

Loki had explained hardly a fraction of the items on display when they heard the heavy doors open. A woman who looked somewhere between Elsa and Frigga in age came into the library and approached them. Elsa took her for a servant, a notion confirmed when the woman bowed.  
  
“Pardon for the intrusion, your grace, but rooms have been prepared for the royal guest. Queen Frigga has asked me to show her the way so she may take her ease before supper.”  
  
“It seems my mother decided we have had enough privacy,” Loki said, turning to Elsa. “Well then. We certainly  _must_ do as she says. Shall I fetch you later, when it is time to sup?”  
  
“All right,” Elsa said. She was looking forward to seeing the guest rooms Asgard offered. “Until then.”  
  
Judging from the route the serving-woman took her, Elsa was staying not too far from the library. She hoped she could remember how to get there, in case she wanted a book. If Frigga said they were at her disposal, surely that meant the library, too. She wondered where the princes slept. In Arendelle, at least, male and female guests had separate corridors.  
  
Her room did not disappoint. The woman led her into a large, airy  _salon_ decorated in blues and golds. Several cushioned settees and tables were arranged around an empty fireplace, the largest Elsa had ever seen. A huge tapestry on one wall depicted a pastoral scene, and another was woven with images of creatures she could not identify. Grand windows opened out over part of the city, with mountains just visible on the horizon. The breeze was cool and sweet. The ceiling was lower here than in the library, but it was ornately carved and painted.  
  
The servant led her through a much smaller dressing-room and into a bigger bedroom. The canopied bed, with its gilded posts and dark-blue draperies, looked like it could sleep at least four Elsas. The carpet was soft and thick, and the fireplace even larger than the one in the outer room. There was a vanity table, a writing desk, and more dressers and wardrobes than she thought anyone needed to use. The curtains were closed, but stirred in a breeze from the open windows behind them.  
  
“There is fresh water in the pitcher on the table, your grace,” the woman said.  
  
“Yes, thank you,” Elsa said. “This will suit nicely.” She wondered if the servant expected her to be more demanding. She had never been any sort of guest  _anywhere_ , much less as queen.  
  
It might have been frowned upon for a guest to kick off her shoes as soon as she was alone and shuffle her bare feet across the luxurious rugs, but that is what Elsa did. She unclasped her cloak and let it crumple to the floor. Then she took off her belt and dagger before leaping onto the bed, burying her face in a pillow that smelled faintly of lavender.  
 _  
Anna would love this,_ she thought. She would be leaning out the windows to take in the sights and probably trying to see if they both could fit in the empty fireplace. They could snuggle close in the bed, as they had when they were much younger, and whisper secrets and scary stories when they should have been asleep.  _I wonder if Loki would go and bring her back for me?  
_  
Elsa did not know how long she was asleep, but when she awoke, the room felt slightly cooler and the light had shifted. She had not realized how exhausted she was, and dragged herself off the bed, grateful for Frigga's suggestion that she rest. Her cloak had been folded and placed on a dresser, and there were new towels sitting beside it. Everything else was as she had left it, but Elsa felt a flutter of uneasiness at the thought of someone being in the room when she was unawares.  
  
After washing her face and hands, she sat at the vanity table to make use of the hairbrushes and combs in the drawer. She refastened the dagger and its belt around her waist, beneath her skirts. Loki still had not come by then, so she waited.  
  
Elsa spent most of that time looking out the window. The room was higher above ground than she expected. She saw copper-colored rooftops and golden roadways and bridges, surrounded by tributaries that lazily meandered through the city, toward a wider river that flowed into the waterfall she had seen earlier. In the distance, the structures grew further apart, until her eyes could just make out a stretch of green space, then the hazy sight of the mountains. As beautiful as it was, something about it made her unsettled; Elsa preferred her mountains closer, like at home.  
  
She started at the sound of a rapping. Elsa slipped back into her shoes and hurried to the door. Loki was wearing a fresh change of clothes and his green cloak. His hair was slightly damp and his face was almost pink, with the scent of soap or some kind of oil hanging about him. He looked so much like a little boy who had just been given a good scrubbing that Elsa had to try hard not to laugh. She was not entirely successful.  
  
“Something amuses you, your grace?” Loki asked.  
  
“Nothing at all,” she said. “You look…very clean.”  
  
They walked arm-in-arm down the stairs, then past rows of giant columns. Elsa had been so absorbed in the surroundings that she forgot to be nervous—until they actually reached the dining hall.  
  
An older, bearded man sat at the head of one table, his expression grave. His careworn face was made more alarming by the golden patch covering his right eye, matching the armor glinting on his chest and wrists. At least Frigga, seated opposite him at the table, gave her son and his visitor a warm smile as they came in. The man stood as Loki brought Elsa before him; he was as tall and broad as Thor.  
 _  
I think that I will not pass muster with_  him, Elsa said to herself.  
  
“King Odin Allfather,” Loki said, “may I present to you Queen Elsa, of the land of Arendelle, in the realm of Midgard.” Although his words and tones carried the utmost respect, Loki's smile was tense.  
 _  
He favors his mother. That is obvious.  
_  
The room's atmosphere hung heavy with apprehension. Elsa felt as though she would wither beneath Odin's gaze as flowers had once withered in her grasp. She remembered to curtsey, which had the advantage of breaking eye contact so she could collect herself a bit more.  
  
“Welcome, your grace, and be seated,” Odin said, gesturing to the chair at his right. It was the seat of honor, but Elsa felt anything but honored—or welcome. The king was as cool and gruff as his wife was warm and attentive, and Elsa saw that he did not take too kindly to an unexpected visitor. Loki, at her right, was calm enough. Perhaps this was simply Odin's usual demeanor.  
  
Thor came bursting through the doors. He was dusty and streaked with dirt, laughing as he waved the heavy war-hammer in one hand. His hair was damp as well, but Elsa guessed it was not from washing.  
  
“Not a moment too soon!” the crown prince exclaimed as he sat opposite Elsa and Loki. A servant was bringing in the first course through a different door. “I trounced both Sif  _and_ Hogun in the field today, and am utterly famished!”  
  
“We are proud of you, Thor,” Frigga said, trying to hide a smile. “But you will make Elsa think we are quite uncivilized, coming to the supper table in such a state.”  
  
Thor's mouth was already full of soup, so Elsa said, “He was a perfect prince at the coronation, your highness. He represented his realm very nobly, and brought you no shame.” She glanced at Loki and grinned to see him roll his eyes.  
  
“I do not think Thor's appearance warrants any concern,” Odin said. “It is hardly the most surprising thing at the table this evening.”  
  
“My dear,” Frigga said with warning in her voice.  
  
“I am sure we are all at a loss as to what you might mean, Father,” Loki said. The irony dripping from his words earned him a glare from the king that was no less fierce for missing one eye. That was bad enough, but then he turned that eye toward Elsa.  
  
“I am sure your grace is a worthy queen in your own land,” Odin said to her. “And with you as a guest within our walls, our laws and duties of hospitality place us at your disposal. But I am in no way bound to pretend that this was my idea, or that I gave any approval in advance.”  
  
“Come now, Father,” Loki said. “One might think you did not  _want_ her here.”  
  
Thor finally stopped eating long enough to snap, “ _Enough_ , Loki!”  
  
“You know that the Bifrost is guarded for a reason,” Odin said to his younger son. “Every realm has its dangers—beasts and magic and ancient sleeping evils that wait to be awoken. As long as you did not break my most explicit commands or threaten the safety of those realms I am sworn to protect, I looked the other way while you amused yourself with whatever mischief strikes your fancy.”  
  
Elsa stared down at her soup bowl, wishing for the next course to come—or perhaps a fire, or a flood, anything to distract them. Now she  _knew_ she was not welcome, and it set her stomach to tumbling. Desperate to do something, she reached for her spoon with a trembling hand.  
  
“I see that I have been too lenient,” Odin was saying. “A king's commands are too shamelessly flouted these days. You not only sneak off to other realms, but you sneak the other realms into Asgard!”  
  
As soon as the spoon touched her soup, Elsa gave an involuntary shudder, sending a ripple of cold out of her hand. The spoon, soup, and bowl froze together with a crackling sound. She sucked in her breath, horrified. Although her first instinct was to flee, Elsa overcame it just in time; all she really did was leap out of her chair, almost knocking it over. She covered her mouth with her hands, staring at the frozen soup as if she expected the entire table to follow suit.  
  
“Elsa,” Loki said, standing. He reached out to pry her hands away from her face, but as they already knew, his touch no longer calmed her magic. It did, however, appease her heart, which slowed its frantic beating enough that she kept control. “Are you satisfied?” he snarled at the king. “Yes, truly a mistake to bring her here—why, she might freeze all the soup in the realm! What a grievous threat—I shall send her back straightaway.”  
  
“You are not helping matters, Loki,” Thor said. He and Frigga had both stood up in reaction to Elsa's panic, but the younger queen had not noticed until he spoke.  
  
“My king, surely that was unnecessary,” Frigga said to her husband. “You terrify her needlessly. Queen Elsa is of Midgard—she does not know of Asgard's duty to protect the realms, nor of the laws you have made for that end.”  
  
Odin had not stood up, but alternated between frowning at his wife and at the spoon standing on one end in its frozen bowl.  
  
“She came to us honestly,” Frigga continued. “Perhaps such an occasion calls for leniency.”  
  
“Be seated, all of you,” Odin said. No one argued with him. “My words are true, your grace, but they came in haste.”  
  
That was probably the closest thing to an apology Elsa was likely to get. It seemed she had no choice but to sit and stare at her frozen bowl while the others finished the soup. Loki leaned over to whisper, “Do not worry—it's not that good anyway.”  
  
Based on the first few tastes, she did not agree with him. The wild boar that followed, however, dressed with herbs and fruits, was better than anything. Elsa could not decide which of the three sauces she liked best with it.  
  
“We caught this one only the other day,” Thor boasted. “Volstagg dealt the killing blow, as I recall.”  
  
Elsa's appetite diminished after that.  
  
“Do you hunt, Queen Elsa?” Frigga asked her.  
  
“I don't,” she said. “But I ride.”  
  
“We'll ride to the mountains tomorrow,” Loki said. “You can see how they compare to Arendelle.” He grinned. “Provided you can ride one of our horses—they are larger and more spirited than the poor little beasts in Midgard.”  
  
“I think I can manage,” Elsa said, her tone challenging.  
  
“Perhaps you could build yourself another palace in the mountains here, for your next visit. Though I imagine it would melt before you came back again.”  
  
Elsa had not yet decided how to respond when she heard a piercing  _squawk!_  She almost knocked over her wine glass as two huge ravens flew into the dining hall and perched on the back of Odin's chair. Everyone else at the table seemed unsurprised by the birds' appearance. Odin turned to look up at them, frowning. Without a word, he got to his feet and strode out of the room.  
  
One raven flew after him, but the other hopped onto the table, toward the platter. Thor reached over to swat it away as though it were a fly. The raven hopped away, pecked at the boar, and flew out of the room with a piece of meat in its beak.  
  
“What just happened?” Elsa asked.  
  
“Huginn and Muninn, my husband's ravens,” Frigga said. “They bring him news.”  
  
“He looked none too pleased about it,” Thor said.  
  
“How very unusual,” Loki grumbled.  
  
Trying to change the subject from the king and his temper, Thor launched into a detailed account of the hunt for the half-eaten boar sitting in front of them. Frigga feigned interest and Loki made no effort to disguise his boredom, but Elsa started to feel a little ill.  
  
When Odin stormed back into the dining hall, his face red and his one eye glittering with fury, it did not make her feel better.  
  
“Did you think to take advantage of our hospitality by theft?” Odin thundered. “I know not how you cheated the Destroyer, but you were a fool to think you could leave this realm undiscovered!”  
  
Elsa did not immediately realize that he was shouting at her. “I…your majesty?” she stammered. “I-I don't understand.”  
  
“My king,” Frigga said, standing again, “do calm yourself!”  
  
Odin ignored her. “ _What have you done with the dagger?_ ”  
  
Elsa's freckles would have had to fall off for her face to grow any paler. “The…dagger?”  
  
“The forgery was discovered in the weapons vault. There are whispers that you hold the true blade.”  
  
“But I didn't steal anything!” Elsa said.  
  
“ _Do not lie to me!_ ”  
  
Her hands shaking again, she reached beneath her skirts and unhooked the scabbard from her belt. She threw it on the table. “That's the dagger I have—the one Loki  _gave_ me.”  
  
Odin's sudden calm was more terrifying than his shouts. He turned his eye to his younger son. “Explain this.”  
  
“I thought the queen ought to have a unique gift for her coronation,” Loki said calmly. “I thought it would not be missed. It is not as though anyone here  _uses_ it.”  
  
“Then why did you bother to make a copy?” Thor asked, almost as angry as his father.  
  
Loki shrugged. “Ketill is said to be the greatest weapons-maker in all the realms. I wanted to test that claim.” He grinned. “Evidently it is true, if it is just now noticed.”  
  
Odin slammed his fist onto the table, causing a rattle of cups and cutlery. “ _This_ is why I forbid all but the most necessary travel between the realms! I would not have permitted you to attend that coronation if I knew you intended to steal Asgard's treasures for your… _pet_.”  
  
Elsa sprang to her feet. “Excuse me,  _sir_ , I am a  _queen!_ ”  
  
“There was no harm intended, I am sure,” Frigga said.  
  
“Father,” Thor said, “I swear by Mjolnir, I knew nothing of this. Loki said our gift was the copy—”  
  
“Leave us!” Odin snapped. “Frigga and Thor, you are not needed here. You may go.”  
  
Neither of them looked cowed as they left the room, but resigned—and both cast sympathetic glances toward Elsa. Once they were gone, Odin reached over and grabbed the knife's sheath. He pulled out the weapon, looking closely at the shimmering blade and the gems set in its handle.  
  
“The stones glow brightly—more brightly than before,” he said, tracing a fiery ruby with his thumb. “Blood has been shed by this blade, and recently.” His eye looked back at Elsa, whose mouth fell open.  
  
“I didn't,” she said. “I  _wouldn't_.”  
  
“The burning daggers of Muspelheim take heat and power from the lifeblood they shed—and so shine brighter. A blade not used in centuries should not glow as this one does.”  
  
Elsa felt as though she were choking. “You have to believe me,” she said. “I don't want to hurt anyone. It was a beautiful gift. Maybe if I were in danger, I'd use it, but…I wouldn't want to.”  
  
“Elsa,” she heard Loki murmur. When she looked at him, his face looked different from any other kind she had seen him wear. “You are not at fault here.”  
  
She felt a cold terror well up within her. “Loki, what did you do?”  
  
He did not answer before Odin shouted for the guards. “Have the girl escorted back to her quarters—be sure that she stays there,” the king said. “I would have words with my son.”  
  
When Elsa saw the two guards coming toward her, her fingers twitched. But if she cast her magic now to defend herself, she had nowhere to go. This was not Arendelle, where she knew the palace and the city and could shake off pursuers. This was a realm unknown to her, where she had no place to hide. Besides, even if she could fend off the guards, Odin and Loki were sure to overpower her.  
  
“Father, wait,” Loki said. “Leave her be.”  
  
“You are too late to speak in her defense,” Odin said. “She will not come to harm, but I will have the truth from you. That may be easier with her out of sight.”  
  
The guards were standing at either side of Elsa's chair. She glanced at them, then at Loki. He gave her a faint nod, and she stood and followed them back to her rooms.  
  
She paced the sitting room, trying to pass the time by looking closely at the furniture and tapestries, but otherwise there was nothing to do. Elsa leaned out of the windows and considered an escape like the one she had made from the cell in Arendelle. Even if she got out, there was still the question of where to go. She might find her way to the Bifrost, but there was small chance of getting past the Gatekeeper. Besides, her flight might be taken as a sign of guilt—and Elsa was certain she had done nothing wrong. Loki, on the other hand…  
 _  
Loki, what did you do?  
_  
She barely understood what had happened. The visit began with such promise, and deteriorated so quickly. Odin obviously disliked her right away, but she had thought it nothing more than a mistrust of strangers and unexpected visitors. Then there was the matter of the dagger. Had Loki killed someone with it, and tried to hide the evidence in the form of a gift to Arendelle? Was he playing an elaborate, terrible hoax on her? He had told her not to let anyone know she had it. Why would he do that if he wanted her to be discovered? If the dagger was really just a gift, why not give  _her_ the copy? She would not have known the difference.  
  
“ _What does it say of a maiden that she believes such a mercenary plot over a declaration of love?”  
  
_ Elsa gasped and rushed into the bedroom. Her travel cloak was still there, folded and placed on a dresser—by a servant who must have seen the dagger on the table nearby. Groaning, Elsa covered her face with her hands.  _This is all my fault_.  _I at least could have put it in a drawer, or under my pillow.  
_  
She did not know how much time passed before she jumped at a pounding on the door. She opened it and found Thor, and could not immediately hide her disappointment. That turned into apprehension when she saw his sorrowful expression.  _Have they done something to Loki?  
_  
“Queen Elsa,” he said. “I have been instructed to escort you to the king.”  
  
“Where's Loki?” she asked. “Is he all right?”  
  
“He is, and he will be there, as well,” Thor said. “Please, your grace, you must come with me.”  
  
The two guards followed them through the corridor and down several flights of stairs. Again Elsa considered escape, but she eyed the war-hammer in Thor's hands and thought better of it. Not until they were walking through rows of familiar-looking columns did Thor spoke.  
  
“I am sorry for this turn of events.” His words were soft, but still seemed booming in the echoing chamber. “My father is a proud king, and hard, but he is wise and acts for the best. He does not like secrets, which makes my brother all the more difficult for him.”  
  
“I can imagine,” Elsa said. She was looking ahead as she walked beside the crown prince, but out of the corner of her eye she saw him glance at her.  
  
“Loki is a rogue, and full of mischief, and a great source of distress to our father. We do not often see eye-to-eye, but he is my brother, and I wish him well. I hope what has happened here does not make you think ill of him, or of the king.”  
  
“I don't know  _what_  to think right now,” Elsa said.  
  
Thor was quiet as they reached the end of the columns and came to the palace's grand entryway. Elsa realized they were leaving the palace, and she wished she had brought her cloak with her. She almost asked to go back for it.  _It doesn't matter now.  
_  
Outside, a male servant was waiting for them, holding the reins to two horses. Loki had not been exaggerating—next to those two massive steeds, her horses in Arendelle seemed puny and pitiful. With the help of both the servant and Thor, Elsa was settled into a saddle upon a smoky black mare. Thor mounted the dark brown stallion and jerked his chin in the direction they were to go. Elsa was pleased to find that her horse, although large, seemed mild enough, but the young queen was too nervous about their destination to enjoy the ride.  
  
“After my brother and I left your realm,” Thor said, “he was even more withdrawn than usual. Mother said he snapped at her once, which even Loki never does. But then he wanted to return to Midgard. I know not what changed his mind, but he had a difficult time convincing Father to allow it. Heimdall would not immediately open the Bifrost to him.”  
  
 _Why is he telling me this?_  Elsa wondered.  
  
After crossing a street, they came to the rainbow bridge. Thor nudged his horse toward it, and Elsa's heart sank. What awaited her on the other side could not be pleasant.  
  
“Loki does not often trouble himself to make friends,” Thor said. “But he wanted to travel to a realm he usually dislikes, to offer a valuable gift to its new queen. That seems a great deal of effort for him.”  
  
“It  _was_  a gift?” Elsa asked. “It wasn't some cruel joke, or…” She did not finish the sentence, not sure what else it might have been.  
  
“I do not believe so,” Thor said.  
 _  
But how much do you really know your own brother?_ Elsa wondered.  
  
Thor urged his horse into a trot, and Elsa was compelled to follow suit, putting an end to conversation. Elsa's second journey across the Bifrost was shorter than the first, but it had been a more enjoyable experience on foot. They dismounted outside the shining, domed residence of Heimdall the Gatekeeper.  
  
Inside, Elsa's stomach twisted to see Loki standing beside his father, hands clasped behind his back. Odin looked at her as fiercely as ever, and this time he carried a long, golden staff that maximized the effect. Heimdall was standing where he had been before, on a raised platform in the middle of the room, sword in hand. Elsa could not easily read Loki's expression when he looked at her. Every muscle in his body was taut, and his face seemed full of rage—at what or whom, she was unsure.  
  
“Queen Elsa of Arendelle,” Odin said, his voice echoing across the golden carvings of the curved walls, “You are not accused of any crimes here, and Asgard bears you no ill will.”  
 _  
But_ … Elsa thought.  
  
“However,” the king went on, “your relationship with my son, and your presence in this realm, have led to misbehavior, and encouraged him to flout my orders and disobey my laws—laws meant to protect not only Asgard, but the realms under our protection, including yours.”  
  
“I didn't do anything!” Elsa exclaimed.  
  
“We know your influence upon his behavior has not been deliberate, but nonetheless, it has had an effect. He has brought outside magic into Asgard without my foreknowledge or permission. He has stolen a valuable, dangerous artifact from our weapons vault to make a gift to one outside our realm. And he has taken the life of a Midgardian, not only committing murder, but violating orders not to interfere in the commonplace matters of that realm.  
  
“My son has deceived and played tricks before, but as his father and king, I must limit his opportunities where I can. I see no other option but to banish you from Asgard, and close the Bifrost to the both of you. Heimdall is under orders never to let my son depart from this realm, nor to allow you to return.”  
  
“But…” Elsa did not know how to argue with him.  _Murder_. “I am a queen. Have I no voice in this?”  
  
“Your authority is in your own kingdom,” Odin said. “But this is not your kingdom.”  
  
Elsa glanced at Thor, who was wearing the resigned but sympathetic look he had had when he left dinner. Beginning to feel nauseated, and barely able to catch her breath, Elsa looked at Loki again. If possible, his face was even more unreadable than before.  
  
“I didn't do anything,” she whispered again, her voice trembling.  
  
“I am sorry,” Odin said, in a voice that was anything but.  
  
“Fine, then,” Elsa said. “Do what you must.”  
  
Odin stepped forward, but so did Loki.  
  
“Father, wait,” he said. “A moment, please?”  
  
“For what?” Odin snapped.  
  
“To speak to Queen Elsa—one moment of privacy.”  
  
Odin waved a hand at Elsa, but as Loki moved toward her, the king held out the staff, blocking his way.  
  
“Any more tricks, Loki—any attempt to escape—”  
  
“And Thor will hunt me down,” Loki finished for him. “Not to worry, Father. I have no intention of joining that boar on the dinner table anytime soon.”  
  
Elsa staggered backward as he tried to approach her.“Who was it?” she asked. “ _Who did you kill?_ ”  
  
Loki stopped and gritted his teeth before he answered. “One who would have killed you.”  
  
She stopped breathing for a moment, but her heart kept pounding. Anna had told her all about her erstwhile fiancé—how he had revealed his true intentions, how he had tried to kill both of them.  
  
“Hans?” she whispered.  
  
Loki gave a slow nod.  
  
“You're insane!”  
  
“I believe you made that observation long ago.”  
  
“What if you started a war?”  
  
“I doubt the death of a thirteenth son warrants such retaliation,” Loki said. “They may not even miss him. Besides, the ship was well out to sea, after he'd been put aboard in perfect safety in Arendelle.”  
  
Elsa's stomach tumbled and writhed. “Were you ever going to tell me?” she asked.  
  
“No,” Loki said. She glared at him, and he added, “There is no evidence that Arendelle had a hand in the boy's death. Even so, I wanted you to be able to say, in all honesty, that you knew nothing about it.”  
  
“Honesty,” Elsa repeated scornfully, looking away from him.  
  
“You seem to have a higher opinion of it than I do. I confess, I also hoped to convey a message of severe consequences for any threats to the Queen of Arendelle.”  
  
“Is that why you gave me the dagger? To use as a murder weapon?” She did not want to know how he stole it from her room in the first place.  
  
“It was an instrument of justice,” Loki said. When Elsa looked skeptical, he sighed. “My darling little queen, what do you think daggers are  _for?_ I did not give it to you to slice your bread.”  
  
Elsa's looked back at the dark-haired prince. Her expression was fearful, until she noted the tightness in his mouth and the sad shadows behind his eyes.  
  
“Thank you,” she whispered.  
  
Behind Loki, the king cleared his throat. “The hour grows late.”  
  
“A moment more,” Loki said over his shoulder before turning back to Elsa. In a heartbeat, she saw fear pass through his face. He stepped closer and captured her hands in his before she could move away. “Elsa,” he whispered, “the king will not be swayed.”  
  
“I can see that,” she said. She was trying, and failing, to keep her voice cool and calm. Inside, she was in a panic. She wanted to cover the king, the prince, and the guard in ten layers of ice, grab Loki's hand, and run, it did not matter where. It was madness. There was nowhere to go.  
  
“This was not the outcome I intended,” he said. His bright, green eyes begged her to believe him. She did not want to. She couldn't. She had to.  
  
“You should have given  _me_  the forgery.”  
  
“It would not have been worthy,” he said. “Besides, switching the two was an excellent opportunity to practice my own magic,” he added, grinning. Even now, he was trying to make light of the situation.  
  
“Is it true?” Elsa asked. “Can you never leave Asgard again?”  
  
His smile fell, and he looked determined. “There are other ways—I will find them.”  
  
“Then…it's my turn to wait?” Elsa asked.  
  
He looked at her silently before placing one palm against her cheek. When he leaned down toward her, she turned her face.  
  
“Loki, no,” she said, too conscious of Odin, Thor, and Heimdall in the room. “They'll see.”  
  
“Let them,” he murmured.  
  
Elsa had no further argument, and when she felt his lips against hers, she forgot that the others even existed. Elsa kissed him back, seeing stars behind her eyelids and feeling the burn of unshed tears in her throat. Loki held her more tightly than he'd ever done before, evoking a sense of desperation that frightened her. There was a finality to their embrace that diminished the joy, if not the passion. The gentle pressure of his mouth grew fiercer, and although she needed to breathe, she dared not turn her head away. To do so was to lose him. But then her heels inevitably sank back to the ground, and Elsa's arms moved from around his neck to his chest. She squeezed him tightly, pressing her face against his soft green tunic, as though he could hide her from what was to come.  
  
“It is time,” Odin said, stepping forward. “Heimdall—now.”  
  
The giant in the golden armor gasped the sword and plunged it into the platform, sending bursts of white lightning up toward the ceiling. Beams and gears overhead turned and groaned, and Elsa felt a breeze, though she did not know where it came from.  
  
“Loki,” she said, still clinging to him, “I l—”  
  
“ _No_ ,” he said, grasping her arms tightly. “Not now.”  
  
“I have to tell you.”  
  
“Please, Elsa,” he said. “Do not make this any more difficult.”  
  
“If I don't see you again—”  
  
“You will. I swear it.”  
  
Elsa had no time to say anything more before she felt herself pulled from him by some unknown force. It sent her tumbling back into the same bright light that had brought her there. She plummeted down toward earth, the wind rushing in her ears, her legs flailing, her hands grasping at nothing.  
  
Somehow she hit the ground safely, the air knocked out of her so that she could only lay gasping for a few moments. Finally, she sat up and looked around. She was at the exact spot from which she and Loki had departed. She did not know what else she had expected.  
  
It was a long walk to her castle. As in the not-too-distant past, Elsa took back roads and alleyways, but in the daytime there were inevitable passersby. Some scurried out of her way, a few gasped and pointed in delight at seeing their queen, but many more looked at her with pure bewilderment. At one point, Elsa might have cared more what they did and said, but her mind was still winded. She finally reached the kitchen entrance, but there was more activity there.  
  
“Queen Elsa!” the cook gasped. The stout, middle-aged woman almost dropped her ladle, and her exclamation startled two kitchenmaids and sent them scurrying to the storeroom.  
  
“Where is Anna?” Elsa asked.  
  
“Why…Beg pardon, your highness, I'm sure I don't know.”  
  
Elsa moved as though only half-alive, climbing the servants' staircase to the upper floor. She heard a pair of lively voices in the gallery, and a man laughing. Looking through the doorway, she saw Anna and Kristoff examining one of the paintings.  
  
Kristoff saw her first, and stopped laughing. “Your highness?”  
  
Anna looked in the same direction. “Elsa! What are you doing back already?”  
  
Anna rushed toward her sister, but stopped several feet away. Her brow creased and her lips parted in surprise as she took in the queen's windblown hair and red eyes, and the grass stains on her skirt and the dirt on her palms and cheeks.  
  
Elsa meant to offer a calm, dignified explanation. But when she opened her mouth, one shuddering gasp was all that emerged. Before she could take another step forward, Anna was holding her, and together they knelt to the floor, the queen weeping into her little sister's shoulder.


	11. Worlds Away

“Your highness?”  
  
The young queen jerked her head, surprised out of her reverie. “What is it?”  
  
“If I may, m'lady queen, recommend we revisit your trade agreement with Weselton…”  
  
“We  _have_ no trade agreement, not when that odious duke is still so powerful. I can't show weakness and relent.”  
  
The three men seated around the table exchanged uncomfortable looks. Why were they now questioning a decision she had made a year ago? Elsa wondered why they looked so awkward. Did they know something she didn't?  
  
“Queen Elsa,” her minister of defense said, speaking cautiously, “the old Duke of Weselton is dead. His grandson holds the title now, but the Earl of Gelder is his treasury secretary. They have requested an amendment to your trade embargo, as have several of Arendelle's most prominent merchants.”  
  
Elsa could not pretend to be sorry about the old man's death. She  _was_ surprised, though—he had been so spry at her coronation. If he died of an illness, it must have been swift.  
  
“Your majesty,” her correspondence secretary spoke up. “Sir Robert delivered this news not half an hour ago. Perhaps you were distracted?”  
  
Elsa controlled the impulse to blush, but was embarrassed all the same. So that was how long she had been daydreaming. The queen silently chastised herself for it. She had responsibilities enough, and had not the luxury of letting her mind wander like an idle schoolgirl.  
  
“Pardon me,” Elsa said out loud. “Distracted, yes. Well, I suppose we might revisit the idea of an agreement. Perhaps…a meeting with these Arendelle merchants, to hear their concerns myself?”  
  
“I shall arrange it immediately,” said Sir Robert, her treasury minister.  
  
“As for Weselton, maybe I should send an envoy to smooth things over—or at least gauge the current attitude toward Arendelle. If the new duke holds a grudge…”  
  
“I highly doubt that, your highness,” her defense minister said, “there was no love lost between the old duke and the new. The young duke would be delighted to receive your favor.”  
  
“That's a relief, then,” Elsa said. “Have we heard from the Southern Isles?”  
  
“Nothing to cause concern.”  
  
“Very well. Perhaps we could adjourn, then, until—”  
  
Her secretary cleared his throat. “M'lady queen, we have not yet settled all matters of Weselton.”  
  
Elsa sighed. She was growing tired of the meeting, and tired of sitting. “What  _now?_ ”  
  
“There has been…another offer…”  
  
She felt the now-familiar nausea creeping into her gut. Elsa knew what “offer” meant. She had been receiving them since less than a month after her coronation. For all she knew, she had been receiving them since she was born.  
  
“From whom?”  
  
“The new Duke of Weselton has sent gifts, and an invitation for you to visit the duchy yourself, m'lady queen. He has not yet voiced a full proposal, but we believe that is his intention.”  
  
“Well, I can't turn him down until he really proposes, so I think we can say 'thank you' for whatever he sent, and leave it at that. Is that all?”  
  
“The Prince of Mordavia sends his regards—again,” her secretary said. “If he is a guest for your sister's wedding, it is likely he will repeat his offers, in person, and may want to know why he has been put off for all these months. Your highness might prepare for such.”  
 _  
I may refuse his marriage proposals, but I will probably still have to dance with him_ , Elsa thought.  _Everyone knows my secret now, and they know I can control it_.  
  
“Your highness,” her defense minister said, “might I be so bold as to ask why you have put off the prince? There are several options, of course, but this decision ought to be concluded soon.”  
  
“Are you so eager for me to throw away my power as an unwed monarch?” the queen asked.  
  
“Certainly not, m'lady queen. Prudence, of course, would dictate that much care be taken in your choice, but the marriage contract could be written in your favor, and perhaps we ought to begin considering how to approach that…”  
  
“I am twenty-two years of age, and have been queen for only one of them,” Elsa said. “That is reason enough to hesitate.” She stood up, and the others rushed to follow suit. “We're adjourned for today, gentlemen. As always, thank you for your counsel.”  
  
She meant to go to the stables upon leaving the room, but Elsa only took a few steps before someone called her name. She turned to see Anna running down the hall toward her, a panicked look on her face and clutching two pieces of paper. Elsa braced herself for some kind of terrible news as Anna stumbled to a halt before her, gasping for breath.  
  
“I—need—your help!” the princess said between gasps.  
  
Elsa reached out to grasp her sister by the arms. “Anna, calm down. What's going on?”  
  
Anna held up a page. “I can't decide on a dress!”  
  
Elsa's hands fell back to her sides. “What dress?”  
  
“My  _wedding_ dress.”  
  
“Anna, that was settled ages ago.”  
  
“Yes, but then this designer from Italy sent me a sketch, and it's  _beautiful_ , and I don't want to hurt her feelings. Look!” She held out one of the papers. “Don't you love it?”  
  
“Very pretty,” Elsa said of the gown's puffed sleeves and lacy train. “But what about Mama's dress?”  
  
“I know,” Anna said, biting her lip. “I just don't want to be unkind to Signora Trovato. But Mama's dress is really yours anyway, isn't it? I mean, she married Papa in that dress, and became queen, and you're the queen now.”  
  
“It's a family heirloom, there's no reason we can't share it,” Elsa said. “It's up to you, since you actually  _have_  a chance to wear it.” She glanced up to see her secretary leaving the meeting room, and smiled. “Besides,” she added, “I'm not far behind you, if my counselors have their way. They want me pledging my troth yesterday, from the sound of it.”  
  
“Elsa,  _no_ ,” Anna whispered. Her enormous blue eyes grew even wider and she looked around the corridor to see that they were alone. “Who are you supposed to marry?”  
  
“Well,” her sister said, adopting a serious tone, “the new Duke of Weselton is a possibility, and if he's half as handsome as his grandfather, I confess myself most tempted indeed.”  
  
“You can't marry him, I won't let you!”  
  
“I suppose it'll have to be the Prince of Mordavia, then.”  
  
“Stop it.”  
  
Elsa smiled again, genuinely amused this time. She put a hand at Anna's elbow, nudging her to walk along the hallway with her. “We can't talk about this here.”  
  
“Have you heard from him—from Loki?” Anna asked, still whispering.  
  
“Not a word,” Elsa said. “Just like yesterday, and last week, and last month. I couldn't hide it from you if I  _did_ hear anything.”  
  
“I bet you could,” Anna said. “Have you tried to get back to Asgard?”  
  
“The Bifrost is closed to me, and to him,” Elsa said. “I don't even know how it works. I've told you a hundred times. I wouldn't know where to begin.”  
  
“You said you couldn't bring back summer, and you did! If you just tried—”  
  
“Enough, Anna.”  
  
“Don't you love him? Don't you  _want_ to see him again?”  
  
Elsa sighed. “That isn't the issue. This isn't a magic spell you can break.”  
  
“It sounds like the king has a cold heart—and an act of true love will thaw a frozen heart.”  
  
“Odin's heart isn't frozen by a curse,” Elsa said. “He's a proud, old king, with his own laws and power and his own ideas about how his sons should behave. There's nothing I can do about it.”  
  
“But have you tried—”  
  
“ _Anna_ ,” Elsa interrupted, “there are only two reasons why Loki hasn't come back. Either he  _can't_ , or he doesn't want to. If he _can't_ do it, there's no reason to think I could succeed. If he doesn't want to, well…all the king's horses and all the king's men couldn't make him do a thing he didn't want to.”  
  
“But he does, you  _know_ he does!”  
  
“Well, it doesn't matter,” Elsa said, her tone brusque. “I don't want to discuss it anymore.”  
  
“But—”  
  
“ _No_ , Anna!”  
  
The sisters' whispers had taken them as far as the back door of the kitchens. There they went their separate ways—a downcast Anna to her rooms and her wedding plans, and an exasperated Elsa to the stables, to escape into the countryside for a few hours.  
  
Anna did not mention Loki again in the weeks before her wedding. As the event drew nearer, she did not have the time. Neither did Elsa. Although the queen would not take center stage at this event, it was proving more exhausting than her coronation. She had to play the hostess more thoroughly now—thank goodness for the housekeeper Inga!—and manage her usual duties as queen and mistress of the castle. She even had several private luncheons with Kristoff, giving him last-minute advice about her sister and trying to learn more about her brother-in-law-to-be.  
  
The ceremony itself went smoothly enough. Anna had the Italian designer make her a new dress after all. Elsa and Sir Robert were not pleased about the extra expense—especially since Elsa might have been able to magic her sister a new dress—but in the end, Anna was beautiful and happy. Even Kristoff, trimmed and scrubbed and dressed by a horde of barbers, valets, and tailors, cut a dashing figure.  
  
The reception proved more of a challenge, at least for the queen. She entertained the guests with a toast about Anna and herself as children, and by turning one of the punchbowls into an ice sculpture. Three princes from the Southern Isles had accepted the invitation, although they stuck together and once insisted that a servant taste their wines. However, her advisors had not made their warnings in vain. Over time, it became obvious that several eligible bachelors were there for reasons other than just to honor the newly wed princess.  
  
Elsa tried to keep count of whom she danced with and how many times, not wanting to favor anyone in particular. The conversation of her dance partners hardly varied from small talk about the ceremony and the food, compliments to the beauty of the land and its queen, or remarks about their journeys to Arendelle. Elsa wanted to scream when, for the fourth time, a gentleman made a joke about how she might turn  _him_ to ice if he proved to be a poor dancer. She wanted to say that she preferred to sic her snow-monster on men who made terrible jokes.  
  
At last, she managed to sneak away to one of the balconies. She perched on a part of the stone balustrade and inhaled the cool night air. The music was sweeter in this atmosphere, drifting out of the open doors, mingling exquisitely with the faint rush of fountains below and the black sky that twinkled with a million tiny jewels.  
  
Elsa looked down at where her hand rested on the stone, wondering if she dared to conjure a staircase of ice and climb down to the gardens, and thence into the forest. She had lost count of how many times she had gone back to that fateful grove of trees. If there were a more perfect time for the prince of Asgard to return to her, Elsa could not imagine it.  
  
 _It's only been a year,_ she thought.  _I've waited three times that.  
  
_ _But that was when he could come and go as he pleased. What about now?  
  
_ “This is a most unhappy sight!” a man exclaimed behind her.  
  
Elsa's whole body stiffened at the invasion of her quiet solitude. She composed her face into a mask before turning around to see the Prince of Mordavia standing in the doorway.  
  
“Is it?” she asked, finding herself too tired to smile. “I don't feel unhappy.”  
  
“I am most glad to hear it,” the prince said, stepping closer. His own smile was broad and gleaming, set in an olive-skinned face, beneath an aquiline nose and a pair of dark eyes. His brown, boyish curls made it difficult to guess his age, but Elsa already knew him to be thirty years old.  
  
“It is a beautiful night, and my sister has just been married,” Elsa said. “That should be enough to keep unhappiness away.”  
  
“A beautiful night indeed.” The prince stood close by her, but Elsa did not bother to stand, or to invite him to join her. “If I may say so, your highness, you are just as beautiful.”  
 _  
How poetic,_ Elsa thought. “Thank you,” she said out loud.  
  
“I am sure you will make a splendid bride on your own wedding day.”  
 _  
Subtle, too._ “It's every girl's dream, isn't it?” she asked.  
  
He did not catch the sarcasm. “So I hear.” The prince cleared his throat. “Your majesty, nothing would give me more honor than to make that dream come true.”  
  
 _Why did I have to come out here? I wanted fresh air, and here I am being suffocated. Couldn't he see I wanted to be alone?  
  
_ Elsa had nothing to say to him, and so she made no effort. She only looked at him with eyebrows slightly raised, as though inviting him to impress her. He seemed taken aback by the lack of swooning.  
  
“My ambassadors tell me that my gifts have been gratefully received, but that there has been no answer.”  
  
Elsa looked at him a little more carefully. He was kind enough, from what she knew. Handsome enough, too—maybe even more handsome than Loki, if his eyes were not quite so close together. There were political advantages, too, to be sure. She wondered if she ought to say any of this out loud—though not the part about his eyes, perhaps.  
  
“They  _were_ gratefully received,” she said, digging at her memory and desperately trying to recall what those gifts had been. He was not the one who had sent the ridiculous miniature portrait of himself, she was sure. “But I've had lots of offers. I don't know how a young queen can possibly decide.”  
  
“I could make you quite happy,” he said, sitting down beside her, without first asking her leave.  
  
 _At least he and Loki have_ that  _in common.  
  
_ “Perhaps you could,” Elsa said. She wondered what his kisses tasted like, but despite his good looks, the thought filled her with revulsion.  _Perhaps not_. “As I said, I am but a young queen, and I have many things to consider.”  
  
The Prince of Mordavia gave a half-sigh, half-groan that she supposed was meant to convey lovesick longing, but she recognized the insincerity. “How long must I wait in torment for your answer, lady queen?”  
  
 _As long as it takes for the right prince to get here._  “Oh,” Elsa said thoughtfully, “I think it will be at least another two years.”  
  
“Twice that long would be worth it,” the prince said. He took her hand and brought it to his lips, delivering a swift, dry peck that made her want to cringe away and wipe her hand on her skirts.  
 _  
You will be waiting ten times that long, I'm afraid._

 

* * *

He had not ridden this far since…Loki could not remember when. Although he had spent almost every moment of his life in Asgard, it was a vast realm and much it was still a mystery to him. He liked it that way. Loki enjoyed having space still to explore; it suited his restless nature. He kicked his horse back into a gallop, hoping that the rushing wind would whip the thoughts right out of his mind. All it did was sting his eyes, and he began to feel an ache in his legs and hips where he clung tightly to his mount. The beast needed a rest soon, he knew. Loki had lost track of how long he had been away.  
  
He had been losing track of time quite a lot lately—though the green-eyed prince could hardly have said what “lately” even meant. He had immersed himself in magic and studies. His visions of other realms grew clearer, but that brought pain and exhaustion that kept him from concentrating for long.  
  
His glimpses of the queen in Arendelle showed a woman older than when she had left, still beautiful and no doubt all the more clever for her added years. He had been dismayed once to see her with a pair of children, before he realized that they belonged to the sister. The most recent vision—some weeks ago, now that he thought about it—had left him with not only a crippling headache but an agitated heart. The sight of Elsa with children was too frequent and unwelcome to his eyes. He  _hoped_  they were Anna's, at least. Whether they were or not, it meant that too much time had already escaped them; he did not want to think about what else he might have lost.  
  
When he was not spying on other realms, Loki was developing headaches in other ways. He combed the palace libraries for writings about travel without the Bifrost, but there was such a dearth of information that he suspected Odin of censoring the collections. Frigga, normally supportive of her younger son's less destructive ventures, dismissed his accusations. Still he searched.  
  
In the meantime, he practiced other forms of magic that might prove useful in any realm. He practiced shape-shifting until he made a convincing fly or horse, and started to try human forms. He learned how to replicate himself, though his twins were hardly more than shadows. Loki did most of his studying and practicing alone, sometimes with Frigga, but still his exhaustion and absences drew attention and remarks.  
  
“If the Mischief-Maker put as much effort into a sword as he puts into a book, I imagine that he could even defeat  _me!_ ” Fandral said one day after beating Loki in a fencing match. Loki responded with a cloud of smoke that turned the warrior's boasts into coughs.  
  
“It is no concern of yours how he chooses to spend his time,” Thor said to Fandral once he had stopped choking.  
  
The response surprised Loki; Thor had been the one who harassed him into practicing on the Warrior's Field that day. He dismissed it until after dinner that night, when Thor found him in the library. Loki was poring over ancient scrolls, his nose almost touching the page to discern the tiny, faded script.  
  
“Mother is worried about you,” Thor said. Although he did not speak at his usual volume, Loki jumped at the sound anyway. He had left the library door ajar, allowing the crown prince to enter more quietly.  
  
Loki groaned and rubbed his eyes. “Is that the urgent news you've come to share?” he asked.  
  
“I am, as well,” Thor said. “It is not good to shut yourself up like this. You need light, and fresh air, and food. You hardly ate at dinner.”  
  
“It was sufficient. And you pestered me into exercise this morning—have you forgotten already?”  
  
“You cannot live on so little company.”  
  
“My own company is enough for me, thank you.”  
  
Thor hesitated, while Loki continued to peer at the scroll. The dark-haired prince was not really reading, but merely waiting for his brother to leave. Instead, Thor pulled out the chair beside Loki and sat down at the table with him.  
  
“We both know it is not,” Thor said. “I know your hard work has to do with the Midgardian queen. But if you are not careful, you will bring harm upon yourself in your pursuits.”  
  
“And you would be heartbroken,” Loki said bitterly. “You and Father, I suppose.”  
  
“Of course I would be,” Thor said impatiently. “You are my brother, Loki, and I want to see you well—and happy, if you would allow yourself to be.”  
  
Loki sighed and finally turned toward Thor. “So you say—but would you help me?”  
  
“With what?”  
  
“If there are ways to reach other realms without the Bifrost, I mean to find them.”  
  
“You would still deny Father—your king?”  
  
“Father has closed the  _Bifrost_  to me, but if there are other ways—”  
  
“He ordered Heimdall not to let you depart this realm. However you may try to twist his words, you would be disobeying him, and I cannot help you in that.”  
  
“You think he was right, then,” Loki said. “You think his  _sentence_  was wholly just and sensible.”  
  
“He did what he believed was right—what he thought he had to. I was your unwitting accomplice once, Loki, and it led to this very situation in which you find yourself. I will not do it willingly now.”  
  
“So I thought,” Loki said, turning back to the scroll. Thor did not take the hint.  
  
“I know you wish to see her again. If I could make it happen  _with_ Father's consent, I would. But we cannot change his mind.”  
  
“And I suppose you've tried,” Loki said.  
  
“I have,” Thor said. “Mother, too. He will not relent—but we  _have_  tried. I will try again, if you wish.”  
  
The younger prince looked at his brother again, a moment before he could hide his surprise. Thor's face was serious, with not a hint of mockery in those bright blue eyes. Loki knew that Frigga had tried to get the king to take back his decree. He would not have expected Thor to care enough to make any attempt to sway him, though.  
  
“Thank you,” Loki murmured.  
  
Thor smiled sadly. “When I am king, I promise that I will restore your privileges.”  
  
“Will you also restore the time?” Loki asked. “A thousand years on Midgard may have passed by then.”  
  
“I fear that is beyond my power,” Thor said, standing up. “Perhaps you will find a spell to do so in those scrolls of yours.” He slapped Loki on the back and, chuckling, left the room.  
  
In the weeks that followed, Thor seemed to take Loki's thanks as encouragement, and kept pressuring him into spending more time outside, or in the company of others, or both. He tried to distract Loki from his research and practice, until Loki resolved to put himself at an even greater distance. He woke early one morning and went to the stables, saddled a horse, and rode through forests, across open fields, and into the mountains.  
  
He finally dismounted near a tributary of Asgard's great river, where the shore was lined with rocks that eventually gave way to great boulders. The boulders themselves had tumbled from the mountains and cliffs that towered over the water. The air was different here—a little thinner, at a higher elevation, but richer for being so far from the city. Loki had only passed two small villages in the last few hours. Here was a place he would be alone and undisturbed.  
  
Loki watched his horse nose around in the thin grass and wondered if he could turn it into a person. He had managed the reverse on himself. It seemed cruel, though, after the beast had so patiently borne his weight and exhausted itself carrying him this far. Instead, Loki turned away to take in his surroundings. He shaded his eyes and peered up at a cliff on the other side of the river. Something was cut into the rock, but he could not tell if it was a cave or just a small recess. He could not reach it on his own, but…  
  
Grinning, he saw another opportunity for practice. He took a breath and gathered his energy, focusing on the opposite shore. Finally, shimmering like a mist, he saw his own form appear. As he concentrated, the second form grew clearer, until it looked like the real thing—at least at that distance.  
  
Suddenly, Loki was transported, finding himself standing beneath the cliff, his consciousness now residing in the duplicate he had made. The first, original Loki dissolved. Across the water, his horse continued to graze as though nothing had happened.  
  
Loki glanced around in a daze, touching his own arms and chest and face to make sure they were real. When he was certain, he laughed aloud. It sounded strange, reverberating against the rock and over the water. Everything about him felt the same, but he was not sure how he had managed what he just did.  
  
He twisted his head and body to look up at the rock above him. From where he stood, that space did look like a cave. Once again, he concentrated, and saw himself appear at the entrance. A few more minutes, and again the real Loki changed places with the vision, and his twin faded away.  
  
He was standing at the very edge of the mountainside, just inside the mouth of what appeared to be a very large cave indeed. When he turned to peer into its depths, he saw a light shining far away.  
  
It seemed as though he was alone. Loki took several hesitant steps forward. The space was tall, but it was narrow. Not so narrow that he could span it with his arms, but nearly. As he continued, he saw that the light within the cave was coming from a series of silvery cracks in the rock. Some of them were shining steadily; others flickered like sputtering candles. Further in, he saw cracks not only in the cave walls, but in the floor. The spaces widened, until he had to jump from one chunk of floor to the other.  
  
As he grew accustomed to the light shining out of the crevices, Loki began to see between the spaces, and was astonished by what he found. Like supernatural keyholes, peering through the gaps in the rock yielded a sight, not of another cavern room, but of other worlds entirely. Through one space, he saw a dark, barren tundra. Another crack in the wall showed a vast ocean, and another a pool of red lava. Several spaces were wide enough for him to squeeze through. What would happen if he did?  
  
The next gap in the floor was almost too wide for him to jump across. Loki thought about duplicating himself again to reach the other side, until he looked down into the chasm. He saw only grass and some trees, but there was something familiar about it. He crouched down to the floor, his head hanging over the edge. He made out several hills and valleys, and what looked like a town. There was even a castle.  
  
He sucked in his breath, not daring to believe his eyes. He recognized the castle—he had seen it a hundred times before.  
  
Whether the sight came from magic or madness, Loki had to know. He took a deep breath, pushed himself off the edge, and tumbled through the air toward the earth—and Arendelle.


	12. Loki Returns

It was not the glittering tower of ice on the North Mountain, but it hardly mattered. Loki stood before the palace, savoring the sight. Years of searching had finally yielded success. He had arrived.  
  
Getting  _inside_  was trickier, but in the end the guards were distracted enough by a replica that Loki snuck past the walls and into a back corridor. Following the path he had memorized from his illusions, Loki found the queen's chambers easily enough. He was surprised to find another guard. Elsa never had such security before, from what he had seen.  
  
“The queen is in no condition for strange visitors,” the guard said.  
  
“She will see  _me_ ,” Loki said. He was not entirely sure whether to employ charm, threats, or bribery here. He smiled. “I've not come to steal her away—yet. I promise to put her back just as I found her.”  
  
The guard remained suspicious. “And what is your business with the queen?”  
  
“Not 'business' at all.”  _And certainly none of yours_. “I am an old friend of her grace.”  
  
The soldier scoffed. “An  _old_ friend indeed. What kind of idiot do you take me for?”  
  
Loki felt apprehensive for the first time since he set foot in Arendelle.  _How many years has it been?_  he wondered. “None at all,” he said. “I am pleased to know that her grace is in such safe hands. An old friend of the family, then, here to pay respects to a great lady, if it please your mightiness.”  
  
Either the guard took Loki for an idiot himself, or just a bloodless threat, but eventually he relented and allowed the demigod into the chambers. There, Loki found a parlor as hushed as a chapel, and although the temperature was mild, the atmosphere was stifling.  
  
“Beg your pardon, sir,” said a pretty young woman in a nurse's uniform as she approached him. “Are you here to see her majesty?”  
 _  
No, I must have gotten lost on the way to the stables_ , he wanted to say. Instead, he just said, “I am.”  
  
She wanted to argue with him too, but it was shorter than his conversation with the guard. Still, it seemed an eternity before he was finally led to the queen's bedroom. There was a fire going, making this room even stuffier than those preceding it.  _Why is it so warm in here?_ Loki wondered.  _Elsa hates the heat_.  
  
He forgot the warmth at the sight of the queen's enormous canopied bed, the hangings drawn back, and what it contained. Beneath a pile of blankets lay a tiny figure. Out of it poked a pale, wrinkled face he did not recognize. The hair that spilled across the pillow was silvery grey. The eyes were closed.  
  
 _This is not Queen Elsa_.  
  
The nurse was at the bedside before he thought to stop her. “Your highness?” she said softly. “You have a visitor.”  
  
Tamping down his revulsion, Loki drew closer. He wanted to tell the nurse that there was a mistake, that this was not the queen he meant. This was an old, weak woman, hours from death by the look of her. It must have been some relative who had come and seized the throne. Perhaps she was here for a visit, and Elsa had given up her room. He would find the true queen in the library, or on horseback in the forest, or visiting another country altogether. Anywhere but in that bed, in this suffocating room with its roaring fireplace.  
  
The nurse touched the spotted, veiny hand upon the quilt. Loki was about to turn and leave when the old woman opened her eyes.  
  
The sight was a jolt that almost made him retch. Even red-rimmed and sunken into the withered face, there was little mistaking the shade of ice-blue. Time had not ravaged that, at least. He did not have a moment to marvel over the sharpness of those eyes—the way they widened told him that he was seen and recognized.  
  
 _Damn it all, how many years has it really been?  
_  
“Loki.” The whisper was more like a croak. “Is it really you?”  
  
He inched closer. “At the moment, I have my doubts,” he said.  
  
“I will be just outside,” the nurse said. On her way out, she gestured toward a single empty chair that stood by the bedside. Loki approached it, but did not sit down.  
  
“Have I the honor of addressing Elsa of Arendelle, the great Winter Queen?” he asked.  
  
“I suppose I've changed a little since you saw me last.” She blinked. Loki wondered if those were tears in her eyes, or they were just rheumy with age. “I'm glad you came to visit me at last. You look exactly as I remember.”  
  
“Elsa…” Loki finally sank into the chair. “How long—?”  
  
“Ages and ages,” she said. “Fifty years, at least, since I returned from Asgard—to much confusion, I might add. Sometimes I pretended I was an angel cast from heaven, but that made Anna too sad, so I turned it into a story for her children.”  
  
“What of your children?” he asked, trying to keep his face and tone neutral.  
  
Elsa saw through it, and smiled. “None that I know of,” she said.  
  
“Fifty years,” Loki murmured. It had not felt a fraction so long in Asgard. “I would have been here sooner,” Loki said. “I only just found another way. I hope your grace will forgive my tardiness.”  
  
Now he was sure they were tears. “All this time, you've been looking for me?”  
  
“Yes.” It was no time to be evasive or glib. “I did what I had to.”  
  
“But you didn't have to.”  
  
“Of course I did. I could not let that be the last of it. I hated my father that night. Not a word could sway Heimdall once he had his orders. Even my foolhardy brother would not go against him. My mother helped me for a time, but…even she gave up hope, and I daresay thought me a fool.”  
  
“You  _were_ a fool,” Elsa said, smiling again. “I'm glad. If it let me see you this last time.”  
  
“Now who is the fool?” Loki asked. “This is no last time.”  
  
“It well may be,” the queen said. “I am dying, Loki. My pretty nurses and maids and nieces and nephews don't say so where I can hear them, but I know when I've lived out my years.”  
  
Loki wanted to suggest bringing her to Asgard again and plying her with potions and fruits to extend her years and attempt to restore her youth. It was unlikely she would survive any leg of the journey. Even if he left and brought something back, it might be too late.  
  
“There is nothing left to be done,” Elsa said, as though she could read his thoughts. “Even my dying wish has been granted, now.”  
  
“Where is your king?” he asked. “Does he still live?”  
  
“There is no king—there never was.”  
  
Why was he so relieved? It hardly mattered now.  
  
“I did know a mysterious prince from another world once,” Elsa added. “For a while, I wondered if he had been merely a fairy tale. But Anna never let me forget he was real.  _He_  made a good story for the children, too.”  
  
Loki could not bear to listen to her talk this way anymore. “Can you get out of bed?” he asked. “Perhaps Heimdall will open the Bifrost once he sees I am already on the other side. I am sure I could carry you to the site. I have not read all the books in the palace library, but surely something there may be useful for…a situation such as this. And there is an orchard in Asgard with golden apples that—”  
  
“Loki, I told you, there's nothing to be done.”  
  
“This is unjust,” Loki said, his shoulders slumping in defeat. “I will never forgive my father.”  
  
“You will,” Elsa said. “You  _must_.”  
  
“For what reason?”  
  
“Because he's your father…he wants the best for you…and it will not be the last time he offends you, if you Asgardians live as long as you say. So you might as well practice forgiveness now.”  
  
“How can you say such a thing after what he's done to you—to us?” Loki asked.  
  
Her smile was sad, and her voice weaker. “You forget—I know a little about being confined, kept away from the ones I love, by a father who loved me and thought he was doing right. It  _was_ all right, in the end. What would I get out of still hating him for it?”  
  
Loki clenched his jaw. Odin had not done what he thought was right; Loki could not accept the idea that he had. Odin simply could not admit that his younger, lesser son had managed to trick him for a brief time, and had dared to cultivate interests and relationships outside of the king's sanction. Loki could not say these things aloud, he knew. Elsa would try to argue with him.  
  
“Nevertheless, I will have my revenge,” Loki said. When Elsa's blue eyes went wide with alarm, he chuckled. “Fear not, my darling queen. It will not be violent. I will merely do whatever is in my power—the power I have now, and that which I have yet to attain—to reclaim what he stole from us.” He leaned closer and whispered to her, “Our time…and your life.”  
  
She was still staring at him with horror. “Is it possible?”  
  
“If it is, I shall find out.”  
  
“Loki,  _no_ ,” she rasped. “Please don't do this.”  
  
He frowned. “Would you kneel before death? Would you not take more time if it were offered to you?”  
  
“It's the way things are,” Elsa said. “What they should be. It's time—it's  _my_ time. I've lived, it's over, there's nothing left. Just remember what time we did have, and say goodbye.”  
  
“I cannot,” he said. “Not without trying  _something_.”  
  
“You have to.”  
  
“Do not tell me what I must do!”  
  
“I am still a queen,” Elsa said, her quavering tone still clutching at the remains of power. “I will tell you what to do if I wish.”  
  
“I will not obey you.”  
  
She closed her eyes and sighed. The sound filled him with alarm, fearful that this breath was her last, but she opened her eyes again.  
  
“I'm a dimwit if I thought you would,” she said. “My vanity is pleased to know you'll miss me once I've gone, but you have to leave it at that. Don't try to bring me back, or try to reclaim the years. Whatever you think to try—whatever dark magic you think could give us more time—is not worth it.”  
  
Loki reached out to touch a strand of gray hair on her pillow. It was thin and brittle compared to the soft, heavy, white-blonde braid he remembered, and he pulled his hand back. His clenched fist rested on the edge of the bed.  
  
“Is your life worth so little to you?” he asked.  
  
“I've  _lived_ my life,” she said. “I'm sorry you weren't there. I wish you had been. But we can't change that.” She reached out a tiny, wrinkled hand and placed it over Loki's fist. He felt the magic in her—weaker than he recalled, but stronger than he expected for someone so close to death.  
  
“Loki, listen to me,” she said. “I've lived a life of power—political and magical. There were advantages, but it is a burden that I would not wish on anyone. It pained me to name my nephew as heir, knowing how heavy that crown is. Power can change you in so many terrible ways, and if you need power to bring me back, whatever kind, I beg of you not to chase it. If you will not refrain for my sake, then do it for your own good. Please, Loki, let it go—and let  _me_ go.”  
  
Loki felt his heart soften at her enfeebled pleas and the unsettling anxiety in her expression. Elsa had not lied to him before. Surely there was something to what she said. But if there was a way to undo what his father had done…  
  
“ _Promise me_ ,” she whispered.  
  
His face was almost pitying. “What makes you think I would keep it?”  
  
“You keep your promises. You said you could bring me to Asgard, and you did. You swore I'd see you again, and here you are.”  
  
“They were easily kept,” he said. “I was determined. I wanted to keep them.”  
  
“But now?”  
  
“Now…now there is too much at stake.”  
  
He felt almost guilty at her defeated expression. “Then lie,” Elsa said. “I know you can do that.”  
  
“I beg your pardon?”  
  
“If you won't give me a promise, then give me a lie—one final, beautiful lie for an old woman.”  
  
He wanted to laugh at the absurdity of her request. It was the last thing he would have expected her to ask of him. She had always demanded the truth from him, even in the beginning.  
 _  
I meant what I said…When?…Whichever pleases you.  
  
_ _Did you really want to rescue me?…I would have rescued you three years ago.  
  
_ Loki shifted in his seat before he leaned forward. His lips almost brushed her ear as he spoke.  
  
“I, Loki of Asgard, here and now make my final farewell to Queen Elsa of Arendelle, at her request. This will be the last we see of each other. I shall heed her wishes and be content with the brief, infrequent time we spent together. I shall no longer try to defy the wishes of my father the king, or resist the precepts of the cosmos. Instead, I shall return to Asgard thoroughly meek and chastened. I will not seek out power over life and death and time, and if I should inadvertently encounter it, I will bow my head and turn away and say that such influence is not for me to possess.”  
  
He hesitated for half a second before he planted a soft kiss on her cheek—thin and dry, like old parchment. When he leaned back in the chair again, Elsa gave him a wry smile. He saw even more of the young woman he loved in the elderly face.  
  
“Lovely,” Elsa said. “For a moment, I almost believed you.”  
  
She closed her eyes, exhausted by all the entreaties she made to her unexpected visitor, and was aged again. Loki watched the lined features of her face relax, and saw the shallow rise and fall of her chest beneath the blankets. He felt stifled by the room, but could not bring himself to leave. When the nurse came back again, however, he made his escape.  
  
Loki proved himself a liar the next day, when he returned to the palace and the stifling bedroom. To his horror, the queen's condition had deteriorated rapidly; she barely recognized him. The servants and nurses were less shocked, and he knew he had been fortunate to find her on a good day. He waited, but another was not forthcoming.  
  
He had not been in Arendelle for a week when he found himself standing behind a throng of citizens gathered to honor their beloved queen. When the sun began its descent behind the mountains, the villagers began to trickle away from the cemetery. Loki remained, staring at the elaborate headstone placed beside the memorial to Arendelle's last king, lost at sea many years ago.  
  
He sensed another person standing near him. When he felt a hand brush against his, he finally turned to look. Beside him stood a small old woman, her red hair streaked with grey, looking up at him with a pair of earnest, familiar-looking blue eyes.  
  
“I  _told_  her you loved her,” the woman said. “I'm glad you came—she was waiting for you.”  
  
Loki stared at her in silence for some time, but she seemed in no hurry. He slowly reached into his coat and drew out a length of silvery fabric.  
  
“Here,” he said, holding it out to her. “She left this in Asgard.”  
  
She took it with a trembling hand. “Thank you,” she said, drawing the cloak around her shoulders. It was far too long for her, stooped with age as she was.  
  
“She loved you more than anyone,” Loki said.  
  
Her smile was melancholy. “I know.” She stroked the cloth as though it were a newborn kitten. “It still smells like her. How is that possible?”  
  
He looked away, back toward the headstone, and found himself smirking.  
  
“Magic,” he said.


	13. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thor 2 spoilers, just in case

The boat hovered over the dark, barren lands of Svartalfheim. Loki sat at the stern, one hand resting on the tiller as he leaned casually forward. Thor was not looking back at him, but gazed affectionately at the human asleep on the floor, curled up beneath his cloak. If Loki focused hard enough, he could see a red sheen to her skin, where the Aether pulsed within her.  
  
The Aether of the Svartalfar—one more source of strength within his grasp, and yet too far away. It was becoming a laughable pattern, his gaining great power only to lose it, and now the price of his temporary freedom was to suffer such loss again. There had been Odin's spear Gungnir, the Casket of Ancient Winters, the Other's scepter, the Tesseract…but the Aether, with the power of light and darkness and the energy to wipe out galaxies, was the most dangerous of them all. And here it was, swirling in the blood of a tiny, brown-haired mortal.  
  
“What I could do with the power that flows through those veins,” Loki mused, only half intending to say the words aloud.  
  
“It would consume you,” Thor said, annoyance in his tone. By now, Loki's attempts to seize dominance must have seemed a persistent inconvenience, like mosquitoes in summer.  
_  
As would you, if I did try to steal it,_ Loki thought wryly. Out loud, he said, “ _She's_ holding up all right.” He jerked his chin in the direction of the sleeping girl. “For now.”  
  
“She is strong in ways you'll never know,” Thor said.  
_  
Won't I?_  Loki wondered. He thought back over a century of Midgardian time—a fraction of his own, yet it might as well have been a million years for how distant it seemed to him now.  _I once knew a mortal of ten times the strength and spirit of your little plaything.  
_  
“Say goodbye,” Loki said. He meant it as a cut to Thor, but the sharp words turned on him and sliced him open, releasing memories better left buried.  
  
“Not this day,” Thor said.  
  
Anger flared up inside Loki. Thor's defiance, his  _delusion_ , sickened the dark prince. Who was he to say whether this human wench was safe from the horrors of her own inevitable mortality? How dare Thor try to make any claim now, when cruel Fate had already played the thief with the man he once called brother? Well, then, let the future king have his delusions. Fate would make a fool of him in time.  
  
Yet Loki could not stay quiet. “This day, the next, a hundred years—it's  _nothing!_ ” Loki stood up, daring Thor to turn and look him in the face. “It's a heartbeat. You'll  _never_  be ready.”  
  
Neither was he, the day he had lost her, the only real treasure Midgard could offer. If he closed his eyes, he might still see her—not the frail, aged queen on her deathbed after a lifetime of joys and sorrows—but the young woman newly crowned, with her large blue eyes and reluctant smile, a sprinkling of freckles between them. But he dared not close his eyes, lest he lose himself in fading memories. He needed all his powers of concentration for the quest at hand.  
  
“The only woman whose love you prized will be snatched from you—”  
  
“And will that satisfy you?” Thor interrupted.  
  
Loki glanced once more at the girl asleep before them, and for a moment felt a desire to deliver a sound slap to her face, as she had done to him not an hour ago. Then Thor would  _really_ kill him! He looked back at the blond prince.  
  
“Satisfaction is not in my nature,” Loki said.  
  
“Surrender's not in mine,” Thor shot back.  
  
_No, it is not_. But someday it would be—and Loki almost felt sorry for him. Someday, even Thor, the god of thunder and the Son of Odin, would bend the knee to a power greater than himself. Death would come for Jane Foster, and Thor would truly learn what it meant to love a mortal.


End file.
